


The Match Game

by lambchop33



Series: The Match Game [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beard Burn, Blow Jobs, Clint loves pie charts, Contractor Bucky, Drunk Steve is fun, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, I'm too romantic, M/M, Neighbors, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Slow Burn, Tongue Fucking, Web Designer Steve, but it's just fiction, weiner dogs are the bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-10-13 11:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 88,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10513011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambchop33/pseuds/lambchop33
Summary: Steve Rogers is an avowed bachelor at the ripe old age of thirty. He’s never had a long term relationship, and he’s fine with that. He doesn’t need all that emotional baggage in his life. Then he meets and promptly falls for Bucky Barnes, new resident in his apartment building. The one who makes him feel like he only wants to be with one person, forever.He just doesn’t know how to make that happen.Lucky for him, he has friends who… tease him mercilessly. And then help. A lot. Steve gets a lot of opportunities to get to know his new neighbor and thinks everything is going great, until Bucky reveals to him his own long-term relationship ended badly, and he doesn’t want another…but he might be up for a friends-with-benefits deal. Even though it’s not exactly what he envisioned, Steve’s not about to say no to sex with Bucky, and he finds himself having fantastic sex, in a no-commitment relationship. Just like he always wanted. Until now.





	1. Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> May be more than ten chapters...it seems some people *cough* don't mind extra doses of smut.

Chapter One

Steve Rogers is a first-class asshole…when he plays basketball. Currently he is dancing across a small outdoor court in gym shorts and t-shirt, using his tightly muscled derriere to box out his best friend of many years. Sam curses at him like a sailor throughout. 

“Goddamnit, Rogers! Haven’t you ever heard of _boundaries_?” he hisses, after Steve backs into him on the rectangular cement pad yet again, dribbling energetically. 

It always makes him smile. They’ve been playing together for how long? And Sam _still_ expects him to behave. Really the only time the two of them have been away from each other for an extended period was when Sam went out of state for his medical residency; Steve was eternally grateful to get him back for his fellowship. Inseparable growing up and now living in the same apartment building, he and Sam treat each other like brothers. Including the occasional arguing and one-upping. 

They are playing one on one, their regular Saturday pick up-game having ended shortly before. Steve laughs and twists, racing around his dark-skinned companion and making an easy layup. 

“Score!” he yells, and pumps his fist up into the already humid late summer air in victory. Sam, similarly attired but more sweaty, bends and puts his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

“I knew I should’ve stayed in bed this morning,” he jokes wheezily. 

The blond, wide-shouldered man with him chuckles and walks across the court to retrieve the errant ball, which has rolled into the cropped grass surrounding them. “If Natasha was in it, I’m surprised you did get out of bed.” Natasha is Sam’s red-headed girlfriend, who practically lives with him already in his two bedroom place, down the hall from Steve’s.

Head still down, Sam shakes it side to side. “Work today.”

As he squats down and picks up the ball with both hands, Steve laughs again. “Guess you’re stuck with me then.” His eye catches movement from the other end of the courtyard, beyond the few small trees and benches at the far end. He freezes in place, sucking in a giant gulp of air as Sam approaches from behind.

“So what time are we supposed to be at Thor’s for the….”

The end of his sentence never comes; he trails off when he sees the look on his friend’s face, a mixture of shock and wonder. Sam looks up in the direction Steve is fixated on and sees a man standing at the door to their building, fumbling with the entry keypad, while a black and tan miniature dachshund on a leash waits next to him, impatiently jumping up on his legs.

“It’s _him_ ,” Steve breathes, and blinks slowly.

“It’s who?” Sam inquires curiously, looking down at Steve, still squatting on the ground, and back up at the man again. 

The stranger in question, tall, dark-haired and clad in shorts and a V-necked black shirt, has now figured out the keypad and gotten the door open, letting his dog enter before him.

“ _HIM!_ ” Steve bites out and finally stands back up, paralysis cured with the disappearance of the man inside. He looks at Sam meaningfully. “The guy I told you about from the park and the grocery store. Him! _He moved in here!_ ” 

The last sentence is spoken in a hushed whisper, reverent caresses surrounding the words. Sam grabs the ball out of Steve’s hands. “The guy you have the hots for without actually knowing? Wow, go figure. Small world.” He spins the ball around on one finger. “He must be the new 3C then. That’s only two down from you.” He stops and waves a hand in front of Steve’s face, as he is still staring intensely at the now-vacant stoop and door. “Earth to Steve,” he razzes. “Maybe you should go ask to borrow a cup of sugar.”

Steve comes out of his stupor and studies Sam’s face seriously for a moment. “I dunno…do you think I should?” he says almost shyly, and Sam blinks slowly, brow furrowed. 

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Steve?”

Glancing at the apartment door absently and then back at Sam again, Steve asks confusedly, “What are you talking about?”

Sam widens his stance and rests the basketball between one arm and his hip. “You, man, I’m talking about you! Normally you would make a lewd remark like, ‘I’d want more than just sugar’, not stare at me with puppy-dog eyes.” 

Steve screws up his face. “You’re making me sound like a sexual predator, Sam.”

“NO I’m NOT!” Sam denies hotly. “It’s just…you’re not usually all bashful and starry-eyed. What is it about this guy?”

Steve shrugs and grabs the ball back from under Sam’s arm. “Nothing.”

Laughing, Sam tips the ball out of his hands yet again and grabs it out of the air. “Yeah, right. Well at any rate, you’ll have to try and at least get a _name_ from him next time.” 

Grimacing, Steve walks in stride with Sam back towards their building and recalls his two chance meetings with the new resident in their apartment complex. The first had been one week ago, at the nearby park he jogs in. He was loping along on one of the wooded trails that wound in and out of the early evening sun when he turned a corner and almost ran into another walker coming from the other direction. 

Steve had stopped short in surprise but also awe. The man was breathtakingly gorgeous, around the same age as him, with longish, dark hair to just below his chin, a chiseled jaw and icy blue eyes. Or were they grey? His skin appeared tanned with the summer sun exposure and just so... _flawless_ , from what Steve could see. Smooth and soft-looking. But hidden underneath was a body that made Steve _ache_ with need. 

Thick, hard muscle everywhere. Not the kind that was too much and made him look like a body builder. Just enough to suggest that it was a body that was used to hard work. A body that said he took care of himself. A body that suggested that to be intimate with him would be a life-altering event. Steve might have gasped out loud, he was so startled to stumble upon an Adonis, right there in the middle of the park, but any sound he made was instantly swallowed up by the man’s dog, barking spiritedly and standing between him and the stranger. 

“Zeus, no!” The man tugged on his dog’s leash, to no avail. 

The dog continued his frenzied barking, ignoring all words and actions of his owner, the short hair on his back standing straight up.

“I’m so sorry!” The man turned his magical eyes on Steve and yelled it out so that he would be heard over the din. 

Then he smiled down at his fiery little canine, chagrined, and Steve was dumbstruck. Such a beautiful smile, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up endearingly. Steve hoped his mouth wasn’t hanging open and mentally checked. Good. Mouth closed. 

“He thinks he has to protect me,” the man explained, shrugging in apology.

Steve took a step back and tried to make real speech come out of his mouth, which had gone dry as cotton. He barely succeeded. 

“He makes a great watch dog!” he managed to declare, distinctly proud he got the words out cohesively. 

Meanwhile, Zeus had taken Steve’s words as evidence of his dangerous state and was jumping up at him and barking simultaneously, while his owner held his leash tight and tried to get control of him.

“What?!” he shouted, laughing, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the tiny, ferocious animal. 

“Watch dog!” Steve repeated loudly, and pointed downward. 

The man smiled again – beautifully – and pulled on Zeus’s leash to move him out of the way so Steve could pass. Finally the dog, now apparently satisfied he’d done his duty, quieted down and stopped jumping up and down. 

Reluctantly, Steve did pass around them, giving a little finger wave as he stepped past and continued on his way, unable to think of a good reason to prolong the encounter with the Greek God and his owner any longer. About twenty yards down the trail he couldn’t help sneak a look behind him. The handsome stranger was walking away from him, as he expected, with his dog trotting along next to him obediently. 

His head, though, was in motion, just returning to a forward orientation and away from Steve’s direction. _Was he looking at me?_ Steve wondered, and then immediately felt stupid for doing so. _Of course not_ , he berated himself. Still, he risked a second look back just to appreciate the amazing backside that went along with the incredible front side. There was a fantastic ass clad in a tight-fitting pair of jeans and a t-shirt that didn’t really conceal a broad back. Steve heaved a sigh and resumed his run, shaking his head. Well, it would make for some sweet dreams later, if nothing else.

That was the first meeting. As it was a popular park and he saw plenty of new visitors regularly, he never expected there would be another. But the second meeting took place at the grocery store a few days later. It was after the dinner hour and Steve was just racing in for a few necessities, like eggs and beer. He had been striding down one aisle when he spotted that face—the face he recognized at once as the one from the park. He was already standing in a checkout line and was not looking in Steve’s direction. 

This was fortunate, because Steve stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Hard. Then he looked down at the food display in front of him, grabbed a bag of potatoes (what kind they were he had NO idea) and took off, hustling his ass over to get in line behind tall, dark and handsome before anyone else did. His luck held and he sidled up directly behind him, laying his bag of spuds down on the conveyor belt. 

Next he cleared his throat. “Your protector isn’t here with you?” he asked teasingly.

When the man turned to him, Steve smiled in what he hoped was a friendly way and not super creepy. Recognition lit up the man’s eyes, which by the way looked even more alluring close up, and he grinned back at Steve. 

“Oh, hey! No, I left him at home. He’s got me working for him, though,” he shared, and nodded toward the belt, on which sat a large bag of dog food. “Dog food emergency.” 

His eyes shifted over to Steve’s purchase, then back up, brows raised questioningly. 

Steve pressed his lips together. “Potato emergency,” he deadpanned seriously, and the brunet next to him chuckled in a bubbly way that made Steve think he could listen to that sound every damned day. It was deep and mellow and perfect. 

“Potato emergencies are pretty intense. Good thing you got here in time to re-stock,” the man deadpanned back.

By now the store clerk had scanned the bag of dog food and the stranger had to turn his attention to the card machine. As he slid his card through and punched some buttons on the display, Steve tried desperately to think how to keep their conversation going. Because Steve, for all the shit he talked with his friends, was actually not very good at picking up men. 

That didn’t mean he lacked for company. He’d had plenty of casual relationships over the years. When you looked like he did, all six feet and two hundred pounds of him, a silhouette of sinewy, sculpted muscle and a face that could make angels sing, there was no lack of willing partners when he wanted one. Nobody he ever wanted to get serious with, and that was just the way he wanted it. All that lovey-dovey stuff was overrated, in his opinion. Whenever Sam asked him if he was getting tired of having meaningless relationships, he would reply the same way.

“Sex isn’t meaningless to me, Sam.”

Sam would roll his eyes, as usual, and tell him someday he’d meet his match. _Not likely_ , was Steve’s opinion. So this…this was unfamiliar territory, but he’d been compelled to come over here just to be near this unequivocally stunning person and have another shot at talking to him. Only now he wasn’t talking. He was staring at him while the store clerk, a teenaged boy with a large wad of gum in his mouth, handed him his receipt and asked him to come again. 

Those grey-blue eyes turned back in his direction. “Well, have a good night,” said the hottie, and hefted the bag of dog food onto his hip.

“Yeah, you too,” Steve squeaked out weakly, and watched as the man walked away from him a second time. 

_You didn’t even get a name._ Steve could’ve kicked himself for being such a rotten flirt. Why did this man make him feel so tongue-tied? _That was so lame_. He should have been more witty. More outgoing. _More_. He looked down as the clerk dumped his potatoes into a plastic bag. 

“Plastic OK?” the teen asked after the fact, popping a bubble loudly. 

_Potato emergency_. Steve sighed inwardly. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He didn’t even come in for potatoes. 

That was their second encounter, and what Steve worried would be the last. Probably he’d missed his shot at trying for a date. Because he wanted one, more than he wanted to admit to himself or to Sam. In fact, he wanted more than one, and wasn’t that a first? But the stranger hadn’t flirted with him at all. Not even a whiff of interest beyond common courtesy. _Not everyone is gay_ , he told himself. _And don’t be a complete dick. Not everyone wants you_ , a little voice inside his head proclaimed. 

So as they enter their building, Steve is now hesitant about how to proceed. He’s never felt so unsure of himself. He wants to meet him, for real this time. Properly. Meet him and snuggle him and cuddle him and spend all day in bed with him. _Whoa there. Back the train up._ That might be moving a little fast. Friends. Just make friends. _After all, even if he’s not interested in you, you can still be friends_. 

They climb the stairs to the second floor. The buildings themselves are attractive red brick, very modern on the inside. Every ground floor unit has its own patio and every second story unit has its own balcony, big enough to put a grill on (which Steve and Sam had both done). There are four buildings all arranged in a quad, with a basketball court and large grassy courtyard in the middle, big enough to have a football or Frisbee game on.

Steve had even seen some college-aged kids playing Quidditch one day, and had to try hard not to piss himself laughing at them all, running around with a length of PVC pipe between their legs and shouting things about bludgers and snitches. They all were having a ball though, he had to hand it to them. But college kids here were rare; mostly the quad housed young professionals like Steve, who works as a web designer, and Sam, who is a radiologist.

He’d been living here about a year when he persuaded Sam, whom he had known since grade school, to move in down the hall. They’d met Clint, an engineer, and Thor, an electrician, both here, and it didn’t take long for them all to become fast friends. That was what Steve really liked, the sense of community they had. So it shouldn’t feel like too much of a stretch to befriend his new neighbor, right? They pass by 3C, recently vacated and now apparently filled. He glances at the door longingly. 

“Want to stop in?” Sam whispers, and laughs at the look of fear frozen on his face. “Fascinating,” he observes thoughtfully, and waves as Steve stops at his own door and pulls out his key. “Catch you later.”

“Six-thirty at Thor’s,” Steve reminds him, and unlocks his door. 

\--

“Call off the hounds. Steve has found Mr. Right,” Sam announces later that day, while they are all piled into Thor’s living room for pre-season football. He has a huge sectional that they are all sprawled out on. Snacks and the TV remote sit on the ottoman in front of them. 

“Shut _up_ , Sam,” Steve grouses as he sets down his empty beer bottle on an end table, but it doesn’t take much for Clint and Thor to pounce. Despite their vastly different physical appearances (Clint has a compact but solid frame and Thor is anything but compact—tall and broad and densely muscled), the two have similar fun-loving temperaments and quick wits. The biggest difference between them isn’t physical, though. Clint is by far the fussiest of the group, (or detail-oriented, as he calls it) while Thor is the most laid-back. They make for an odd pair, but have been close friends for a long time. 

Clint inclines his head of short, light brown hair towards his victim. “ _This_ Steve? Will wonders never cease. Did you fuck him yet, Rogers? Or are you waiting until he proposes?” 

“Clint,” Thor _tsks_ disapprovingly, pushing his huge, six foot four frame to his feet and striding toward the kitchen for another round of beer. He turns around and walks backwards to continue speaking to them. “That is so insensitive.” 

Steve rolls his eyes at whatever is coming next. He hardly expects the big blond to take his side. Thor rattles around in the fridge and grabs four more bottles before slamming the door shut and returning to the living room. “The proper wording is to _make sweet love_ , not _fuck_. Show Steve and his new beau some consideration. Are you two going steady yet?” 

As Thor passes out fresh drinks, Steve buries his face in his hands. “I hate you all,” he mumbles into his palms. 

Sam pops the cap off his bottle. “Hey, we’re just looking out for you, baby. It’s not every day Steve Rogers goes off the market.” He takes a long swig from it and licks his lips. “I think we should vet him first, before you start planning the wedding. You want me to go down to 3C and introduce myself, since you were too chicken to?”

Thor has dropped back into his seat on the couch, next to Steve, and hands him his beer. “Wait, he _lives here?_ ” His voice is incredulous.

“Wait, he was too _chicken_ to introduce himself?” Clint’s voice is even more so. 

They all pause for a moment as a rookie on their team scores a touchdown after an impressive run. Clint points at the TV. “He’s _gold_ ,” he announces about the rookie, and then points at Steve. “Come on, Rogers, don’t be shy. Tell us all about him.”

Thor pipes up again. “You want me to go down there with you, Sam? Tell him everything he needs to know about wooing Steve?” 

Sam grins evilly. “Yeah, maybe I’ll take over some baby pictures of Stevie here, you know, naked in the tub, that sorta thing. Wet his whistle.”

“Steve wants to be the one to wet his whistle,” Clint taunts, and tosses a Frito into his mouth. “And I want to see those pictures,” he adds, extending his arm and pointing at Sam. 

“NOBODY NEEDS TO GO DOWN THERE! AND NO PICTURES!” Steve glares around the room for emphasis. No one looks the least bit convinced, or concerned. Bunch of assholes. 

“Come on, we’re only trying to help,” Clint fake-whines. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know,” Steve groans and puts his head back on the couch. “I’ve only seen him a couple of times.”

Thor raises his eyebrows. “You’ve only seen him a couple of times and you’re already in love?” 

“I never said that. I am not in love,” Steve moans tiredly. He’s going to punch Sam in the face later. 

Sam scrunches up his face in disbelief. “Dude, your mouth was hanging on the ground while you stared at him. On the ground!” Steve chokes back a retort, because…yeah. Sam digs in more. “Or are you going to say you were just admiring his weiner?”

Clint and Thor burst into laughter. Punching is too good for Sam. He’s going to wring his neck. Slowly.

“He means his DOG, assholes,” Steve looks at the ceiling and wishes he was playing Quidditch right now. Anything other than being interrogated by his friends. 

Thor’s head snaps around. “He has a weiner dog?” 

Steve and Sam both nod. 

“Is it mostly black? Little thing? Pretty yappy?”

They both nod throughout the questions. Yes to all. 

“Bucky.” Thor smiles smugly. “His name is Bucky.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I specifically heard him call him Zeus. I saw them at the park.”

Thor shakes his head violently. “Not the _dog_. The man. His name is Bucky.” 

Clint and Sam suddenly have coughing fits into their shoulders. Steve stares. “What do you mean, his name is Bucky?”

Thor grins widely. “I mean, his name is Bu-cky.” He over-enunciates it, like a dick. “Try to keep up.” He pulls the bowl of Fritos over and munches loudly on a handful tossed back in his large palm. 

“You’ve met him.” Steve speaks slowly, processing.

“Yep.” Thor is smiling like the cat that got the canary. “Little did I know I was speaking to the future Mr. Rogers.”

“Buck Rogers! In the twenty-fifth century?” Clint almost screams it, he’s laughing so hard. Steve closes his eyes and counts to five. “You’re hilarious, Clint. Now shut up!” he grinds out through clenched teeth, then looks at Thor. “Tell me.”

“Bucky is a nickname, obviously. He’s the owner and project manager for one of the construction companies I work with. Nice guy. I invited him to play ball with us next Saturday.”

There are waves of something like nausea rolling through Steve’s innards. Like nausea, or maybe just butterflies on steroids. It was hard to tell. He takes a deep breath. “So, you didn’t JUST meet him, you KNOW him?” How could it be possible that Thor knew the only perfect person on the face of the planet, and never mentioned him?

“Sure, I know him,” Thor confirms. “Only I didn’t know he was moving _here_ until I saw him the other day, coming out of the building with his dog.” 

Oh, the butterflies are stronger now. _Bucky_. Not the sexiest name he’s ever heard, but what did that matter? Thor _knows_ him. Thor can introduce them! All natural like, that is, if Steve can control his raging attraction to the man. “And he’s playing ball with us next weekend?”

Thor nods. “Said he would.”

Sam laughs. “Just don’t mount him until after the game is over, okay?”

Steve groans and throws a beer cap in Sam’s direction, then slouches down on the couch further. “Fuck off, Sam. He’s probably not even gay.”

“Oh, he’s gay all right,” Thor confirms. “But Sam, you can still feel free to go fuck off.”

Sam gives Thor a finger as Steve tries to control his bodily functions. They’re not butterflies in there. More like…dragon wings, beating against his stomach on the inside. Surreptitiously he clutches at his belly. “He’s gay? Really?”

Clint waves his arms at their host to get his attention. “Come on, Thor, give us the scoop. Is he single or what? Poor Steve here is dying to know about his beloved!”

Sam interjects before Thor can even answer the first question. “And how is it that poor, single Steve has never heard about your hot, gay friend from work before now? What kind of wing man _are_ you?”

“So he is hot?” Clint questions him, and Sam shrugs, lifting his hands.

“Hey, I’m not the best judge, I’m just going by Steve’s assessment.”

Clint rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Oh, bullshit. You don’t have to be gay to recognize when a dude is hot. None of us are gay, but we all know how hot Steeeeeeve is.” He says Steve’s name in a sing-song voice. 

Steve’s cheeks get warm. He puts a pillow over his face. 

Meanwhile Thor has been waiting for an opening. “Okay firstly, unlike Sam, I am comfortable enough with my masculinity to confirm that yes, he’s hot.” He pretends to bristle at Sam. “And secondly, I am an awesome wing man. I never introduced them because Bucky had a long term relationship that ended about a year ago. I don’t think he’s even dated anyone since then.” His face softens and he looks at Steve, who has removed the pillow from his own face. “Or wanted to.”

“So it’s your lucky day, Steve!” crows Sam.

Steve groans and drops his pillow into his lap. “My lucky day? He’s not dating.”

Sam chuckles. “Yeah, but he’s available!” He jumps up, distracting him by pointing at the TV again. The rookie is taking the kick-off back for another TD.

They all whoop in delight. Steve whoops too, but in the back of his head he thinks about his new neighbor and what he should do. Or not do. Walk down there and knock on his door to introduce himself? Wait till next weekend? Hide in his apartment like a child? Hell, it probably won’t matter anyway. Bucky isn’t interested in him, so he’s got nothing to worry about. Right?


	2. Is That A Basketball In Your Pocket?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve realizes he is a total smitten kitten. Unfortunately for him, it's not a big secret from his friends. The bonus is that Sam makes a good Cupid.

Chapter Two

Steve decides to wait until the next weekend to meet his new neighbor…because he can’t work up the nerve to ever knock on his door. Turns out, he doesn’t have to. His new neighbor meets him instead. Steve is at his own front door, just home from work and thinking about his schedule for the next day, when a voice behind him makes him jump. 

“And here I thought you were stalking me.” 

Steve starts badly and turns, and there’s that face, smiling at him. Steve hadn’t even heard his approach, he was so lost in his own thoughts. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Bucky apologizes. He is wearing a plaid button down and worn jeans that look as though they’ve been favorites for years. Steve’s wearing very similar clothing; his work-place is pretty lax on the dress code unless he is meeting with clients. And as far as Steve is concerned, those jeans Bucky has on are already his favorite, because the way they hug his hips and thighs is trance-inducing.

 _I’d stalk you in a second,_ he thinks silently. Out loud, he parries back, “You sure _you’re_ not the one stalking _me_?"

Bucky steps closer and holds out a hand. “Bucky Barnes. Just moved into 3C.” 

Steve shakes his hand. It’s warm and feels nice against his skin. “Steve Rogers. Welcome to the building. How do you like it here so far?”

Bucky nods easily. “Like it. The apartment is great, and it’s hard to find good places that allow pets.”

“Ahhh, yes, pets. Yours is something else,” Steve asserts, laughing. He leans back easily against his door jamb. Bucky is standing close enough to him that he catches his scent. Sweet and fresh and irresistible. It fills his nose and makes his head spin. The draw he feels is even stronger this time, like every time they meet it grows. _Get control of yourself. Pets. You’re talking about pets._

“Yeah, sorry about that. He’s just like that with strangers.”

“You know,” Steve suddenly realizes, “I haven’t heard him bark once inside here, and he was so loud at the park.”

“That’s because I’ve only had one person visit me so far, and he never barks at her. He’s pretty quiet unless he thinks he has to defend me.”

Steve is intensely curious about who “her” is. Girlfriend? Not a girlfriend? “Her?” he inquires simply, hoping he doesn’t sound too nosy. 

“My sister,” Bucky answers with a smile. 

Steve is taken aback by how easy it is, talking to Bucky. His nerves are jangling because of the attraction he feels, but Bucky’s low-key manner helps him to ground himself. They’re even having a real conversation this time! With names! He wants to keep talking. Forever. That smooth voice, those pretty lips…he could stand out here in his hallway all night. Why was he so hesitant to knock on his door when he’s so easy to talk to? There is a subtle shift as Bucky transfers his weight from one leg to the other. Steve keeps his eyes on Bucky’s face, though he is tempted to look down and inspect the hip that must now be jutting out. 

“You have family close by?”

Bucky counts them off. “Parents, sister. How about you? You from around here?”

Spinning his keys on his index finger, Steve looks skyward for a second. “Yes to being from around here, no to family nearby.” He pauses. The fact that he was an only child and that his parents were both gone wasn’t top secret, but maybe not something he wanted to elaborate on right at this moment. “But I have some great friends here,” he finishes. 

Pointing down at the floor below them, Bucky shares, too. “Yeah, I do know someone down on the first floor already.”

Steve nods. “Are you talking about Thor?” He doesn’t need to add the last name. How many Thors are there around? 

Bucky’s mouth opens in surprise. “Yeah, you know him?”

Grinning, Steve tips his head briefly to one side. “You could say that. We play basketball every Saturday.” 

Bucky’s mouth falls open again. “You do? Wait…he told you he asked me to play, didn’t he.” 

Another grin splits Steve’s face. “He mentioned he asked someone new in the building to play.” He fibs a little because he doesn’t want Bucky to know he was mooning over him and talking about him behind his back. 

Bucky seems happy to hear this. “That’s great!” he exclaims, and it gives Steve a pleasant sensation of warmness in his chest. _Yissssss! He’s going to play!_

Bucky goes on to say, “Although, I’ll warn you now, basketball isn’t my strong suit. I played more baseball growing up.” Absentmindedly he runs his hand through his hair, silky and soft-looking. Steve’s eyes can’t help but follow the movement. Fortunately, sports talk saves him from losing all focus. 

“Me too,” he tells him. “We’re not hard core players, so don’t worry.” 

That was the truth. Really they just messed around on the court and trash-talked a lot. Nobody was NBA material. Even Thor, for all his height, had a terrible three point shot and was really only good for jump balls and guarding. Bucky nods in relief and seems to notice now he’s been preventing Steve from entering his apartment. 

“Well, I don’t want to keep you too long. Maybe I’ll see you at the park again soon?”

“Yeah. Do you take your dog for walks every day?” Steve asks, not quite ready yet to see the interaction come to an end. He has so many questions he wants to ask. 

“Yeah, unless it’s raining. Zeus doesn’t like rain.” 

That makes Steve hoot a little. _Zeus_ doesn’t like rain. “Neither do I. Hey, if you need anything, feel free to come over anytime.” Did that sound normal? Desperate? Available?

Bucky smiles and waves his thanks, then ambles off down the hall to his door, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket as he does so. Reluctantly Steve opens his own door and goes in; he then pulls it shut and leans against it. In his mind he’s running over every bit of their conversation again. He is aware he didn’t say anything particularly witty or funny, but still feels…happy. Contented. Just from that limited conversation. He chalks it up to Bucky just being _nice_ , like Thor said. That, and it’s hard not to feel good when you are made of warm, schmoopy goo on the inside. 

As he stands there, the warm schmoopy feeling starts to fade. He needs more proximity to Bucky to maintain it, apparently. Maybe he should have invited him in? Yeah, probably he should have. _You lost out_ , he thinks ruefully. How come he didn’t figure that out till it was too late? Next time. Next time he vows to take any opportunity that presents itself to spend more time with the man. 

That was Monday night, and aside from a couple of glimpses of him going in and out of the building, Steve doesn’t see him again before Friday night. But he thinks about him. A lot. Imagines all the conversations they _could_ have. All the kissing they _could_ do. Holy shit. It hits him all of a sudden, in the middle of another fantasy. He’s completely infatuated. What the fuck? He hasn’t been like this since high school. On some level he understands his real relationship with Bucky most likely will bear very little resemblance to his fantasies, but that doesn’t stop him from having them.

And they’re good ones. Filled with lots of kissing, canoodling, and bare skin. Sun-tanned, golden skin, so soft and mouth-watering. His fantasies interrupt his thoughts at work, when he’s eating dinner, when he’s in bed. A _lot_ of times he’s in bed. Sam supportively rolls his eyes anytime Steve asks him if he’s seen or talked to Bucky yet. “No, Steve, for the thirtieth time, I haven’t.” 

Then it’s Friday and they are on their way out to get in a quick nine holes of golf at their favorite course. They are both pulling their golf bags along behind them on carts when they pass by Bucky’s door and it coincidentally opens. Bucky emerges and smiles brightly at the sight of Steve in the hallway. 

“Hi Steve,” he says, and before Steve can even get in a “hi”, Sam stops and sticks out his hand, blocking Steve to do so. 

“Sam Wilson,” he greets him. “You must be Bucky,” he states knowingly, and Bucky immediately shakes his hand, nodding. 

“That’s right.” There is a hint of surprise in his voice. 

“Hi, Bucky.” Steve leans forward, poking his head around Sam. “How are you?” he manages to interject, in hopes of derailing Sam’s probable efforts to embarrass him. 

“I’m good, glad it’s Friday,” he says amiably. 

“So, I’ve heard a lot about you already,” Sam declares, and Steve feels his cheeks and ears start to burn. 

_Oh Sam, please no._

“You have?” There is that sound of disbelief in Bucky’s voice again, and his eyes slide over to Steve briefly before returning to Sam. 

“Yeah, Thor told us you two work together from time to time, and that you’ll be playing ball with us. We need another man to even things up, so that’ll be great.”

Steve realizes how tense his shoulders are and relaxes. _Thank you Sam._

“Say, by the way,” Sam has an expression like a light bulb just went on over his head. “You don’t happen to golf, do you?”

“Noooo, but I rock at Putt Putt,” Bucky says, pretending to boast, and Sam groans. 

“We’re never going to find a fourth for that league, Steve,” he mopes.

Steve, too, felt a flicker of hope that was extinguished straight away. Damn. He, Sam, and Steve’s co-worker Tony have been looking for a fourth for some time, and golf with Bucky would have been outstanding. He can picture Bucky now, flexing and swinging a club, bending over to place his ball on the tee. Golf is a long game, too, plenty of time for getting to know each other. Convincing him that a relationship with Steve would be a good thing in his life.

“Always meant to learn, just never got around to it,” Bucky adds helpfully, and it’s like throwing a bone to a dog. 

Sam perks up at once. “Steve here can teach you, can’t you Steve?” He looks in Steve’s direction and winks secretly, then back to Bucky. “He’s got way more patience than I do. He’d be a better instructor.”

 _Thank you, Sam._

“And he’s got more free time, because he doesn’t have a _real_ job like I do.”

“What?” Steve sputters, and looks at Bucky, who is smiling amusedly. “He means he’s not smart enough to _understand_ what I do for work,” he needles, and Sam guffaws loudly. “And sure,” Steve goes on before the subject changes and he loses his opening, “I can give you some lessons, if you want. I’ve even got an extra set of clubs in my closet that you can use.”

“Yeah? That’d be terrific…if it’s not too much trouble for you.” 

_Terrific_. He thinks that would be _terrific_. Steve gets a little woozy. Bucky sounds so genuinely excited about the prospect that Steve’s already abundant supply of enthusiasm is doubled. He feels slightly guilty about thinking Sam was going to embarrass him, when here he’s given Steve a golden opportunity to have alone-time with his striking new neighbor. 

He tries to modulate his voice so he doesn’t give himself away. “It’s no trouble at all. I could use the practice, anyway.”

Sam pulls his phone out of one pocket and looks at it. “We’d better get a move on or we’ll miss our tee time. Bucky, why don’t you give Steve your number so you two can work it out later?”

Steve is about to remind Sam that they are in no danger of missing their tee time when he realizes what Sam is doing and decides to zip his lips. 

_I love you, Sam. Did I say I wanted to wring your neck? I meant kiss you._ Steve plucks his own phone out and looks eagerly at Bucky, who rattles off his digits. 

“Great!” Steve hopes he’s not foaming at the mouth in excitement. “I’ll text you later on, if that’s okay.”

“Perfect,” Bucky agrees, and pulls his door shut behind him. 

All three go down the stairs together, Steve and Sam awkwardly carrying down their clubs. Bucky asks generic questions like where they golf and how long they’ve been playing, and Steve can barely concentrate enough to answer. They part ways in the parking lot. Steve takes careful note which car Bucky strides over to (grey Audi) so he can look for it in the lot. 

As they are chucking their clubs into the back of Steve’s Land Rover, Sam jokes, “You can thank me by making me best man at your wedding.”

Steve pushes the little button that shuts the hatch and waits until they are both seated in the car to respond. “You know you’d be my best man anyway, no matter what.” He throws the key in the ignition and starts up the car.

Sam looks genuinely touched. “Steve, now, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!” 

Steve blushes. The drive to the course is short and they make it there in plenty of time. Sam actually doesn’t have a ton of free time on top of all his duties at the hospital, but he looooves to golf, and they always make space in their schedules for that. Natasha is surprisingly understanding of Sam’s guy-time. Steve suspects it’s because she uses the time to go shopping. They are on hole number six when Steve pulls out his phone and stares at it. “How soon is too soon to text him?”

Sam’s head is down as he lines up a putt on the smooth surface of the green. “You kidding me? Put your phone away, Steve.”

Steve frowns and stuffs his phone back into his pocket. 

Two holes later, he pulls it out again. “How ‘bout now?”

Sam’s back is to him as he pulls his driver out of his bag, but Steve can see his shoulders shake as he laughs. “Just text him already then,” he gives in. 

The tip of Steve’s tongue sticks out in concentration as he types. _“Hey, it’s Steve. We’re at the course right now. How does a week from Sunday work for you?”_

It only takes a minute for a response to come back. _“Sunday? That’s bingo day.”_

Steve frowns again. Bingo? Is he kidding? Steve’s never heard of anyone his age playing bingo, but hey, who is he to judge? He looks up at Sam, who is taking a practice swing, looks back down again and types. _“Oh. We can try for another day then.”_

Less than a minute passes this time. _“Steve, I’m kidding. Next Sunday would be great. Just pick a time.”_

A big, goofy smile is plastered across Steve’s face. For some reason, he likes it when Bucky uses his name. _“OK, I’ll let you know.”_

“Fuck!” Sam has sliced his drive, badly. He turns and sees the expression on his companion’s face. “Got a date then, huh?”

Steve nods, slides his phone back into his pocket, and gets out his favorite driver. He’s feeling lucky today. He lines up his shot with confidence and drives a perfectly straight ball down the fairway a good 300 yards. 

“Fuck,” Sam swears again. 

\-- 

Next morning Steve can’t wait to get out onto the basketball court. He’s bouncing off his walls, watching the time crawl by until the hour is close enough. Instead of waiting for Sam to come down to his place, he grabs his basketball, goes down the hall and knocks on his door. 

It takes a minute, but then the door opens and Sam emerges in shorts and t-shirt. “Okay, okay,” he grouses. “Aren’t you an eager beaver today.”

From inside the apartment Natasha calls out, “Hey Steve!”

“Hey Nat!” Steve sticks a hand inside the door and waves before Sam shuts it. 

“Let’s go, loverboy.”

They are the first to arrive outside, not surprisingly, and set their water bottles down at the edge of the court. The air is already warm and heavy with humidity. 

“Today’s gonna be a scorcher,” predicts Sam. 

The next outside is Peter Quill, the IT guy from the building adjacent to theirs. As he walks towards them he holds his t-shirt out away from his chest and fans himself with it. “Oh my God, is it fucking hot already!” he proclaims. “You guys sure you wanna do this today? We could just go sit by a fan somewhere.” 

Steve belts out a mocking “Wuuuuuuuuuuusssssss!” and thinks again how Peter is about as far from the geeky-computer nerd stereotype as a person can get. Peter loves the outdoors and has enough muscle packed onto his stocky frame to be worthy of grizzly bear status. He keeps his light brown hair clipped short so that he doesn’t have to “mess with it”, has no idea what a pocket protector is, and drives a motorcycle.

Most weekends they are lucky to get him in for their game before he is off somewhere hiking or camping or jumping out of airplanes, or some other crazy shit like that. Steve enjoys the great outdoors as well, but draws the line at jumping off of anything higher than a bunk bed. Not Peter, resident adrenaline junky. So Steve knows he’s not about to duck out of their game because of a little heat. 

True to form, as soon as he hits the court, he tosses down his water bottle, rubs his hands together and asks, “So how many points do you boys want to be spotted today? Thor and I will take you and Clint on, two to three.” 

Steve spins the ball between his fingers. “Gonna be even today. We recruited another player.” 

Peter’s eyebrows arch as Sam laughs and interjects, “What’s this _we_ stuff? Thor and I have done all the work so far in the recruiting department. You’re enjoying the fruits of our labor.”

“I haven’t enjoyed any fruits _yet_ ,” Steve complains under his breath, and Sam laughs out loud. 

Peter looks from one to the other and holds up his hands. “Well, come on, who’s the new guy? And why does Steve want to enjoy his fruits?” 

“He just moved in and is a friend of Thor’s,” Steve informs him.

“And Steve has the hots for him,” Sam helpfully adds. Steve glares. 

Peter takes that in stride. “Well, if he’s a ringer, I want him on my side,” he jokes, and holds out his hands for the ball. 

Steve bounces it over to him. “So, what are you doing today?” 

Peter dribbles a few times. “Rebuilding a motherboard.” 

Steve’s mouth forms a circle. “Really?”

“Fuck no, Rogers. It’s beautiful out here.” Peter smiles widely as Sam snorts.

“So what are you really doing today?” 

“Flying lessons.” Peter’s smile gets even bigger. “I’m gonna be a pilot, y’all.”

“Y’all?” Sam repeats sarcastically. “Did you just get in from Texas?” 

Peter tosses the ball at him and points to where Clint, Thor and Bucky are approaching, having just stepped out of their building. “I spy with my little eye, a new guy!”

Honestly, Steve tries super hard not to stare at Bucky in a totally obvious way, but he does keep sneaking peeks at him as the three men cross the courtyard, talking animatedly with each other. Zeus is trailing alongside his owner on a lengthy leash, sniffing the ground diligently. Once Steve thinks he catches Bucky’s eyes on him, but that might have been just his imagination. Bucky’s hair is pulled back into a loose bun on the back of his head. He’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt that leaves very little to the imagination, being pulled snug across his chest and upper back. _Jesus Christ_. Steve bites his lip. He looks freaking _delicious._

As they approach, Clint yells out, “Hey Rogers, Bucky told us he already met you. He said you locked yourself out of your apartment again.”

Steve opens his mouth to refute this, but Thor continues immediately on. “How many times have we discussed this? The key goes into your pocket _before_ you leave your apartment.”

Steve’s mouth is still hanging open slightly. “I did NOT lock myself out of my apartment!” he denies hotly, and when all three get the giggles, realizes belatedly they were just yanking his chain. “You guys suck,” he pouts. 

“Never change, Steve,” Thor teases, and waits to introduce Bucky to Peter till Zeus has gotten in his mandatory barking at all the new people on the basketball court. It only takes a minute, but it’s a loud minute. 

Bucky hooks his dog’s leash to one of the eye hook metal poles buried in the ground periodically around the courtyard. Steve smiles a little when he’s close enough to see the leash: baby blue, with little white paw prints all over it. Zeus sits right down in the grass, seemingly comfortable with this arrangement already. Steve suspects Bucky must have had something similar at his last place. He crosses over and squats down in front of the small dog, offering his hand. 

“Does he bite?” he looks up at Bucky, who shakes his head. 

"Only if he feels threatened.”

Zeus examines Steve with suspicious eyes, then sniffs his hand from afar, then eventually leans close enough to touch his nose to Steve’s hand. Steve remains still and patient. He’s never had dogs growing up, but he’s not afraid of them. How much trouble can this one little one be, anyway? 

He looks up as Thor then announces, “Bucky, this is Peter Quill, our IT guy. If you ever have computer problems, this is the guy you want. Peter, this is Bucky Barnes. If you’re ever building a house, this is the guy _you_ want." 

Steve looks down again. He’s being rewarded with a few tail wags, so he decides to go for the gusto and pet the little guy, moving slowly so the dog won’t freak out. He touches his back and is surprised how soft his smooth coat is. It’s like touching velvet. 

Peter has walked over to where he and Bucky are, and the pair shake hands. Peter wrinkles up his forehead. “Somehow I think the odds are slightly in my favor of being called upon for help, but yeah.” He smiles at Bucky disarmingly. “If you need anything, just ask. I work for free if there’s any chance at all for beer.” 

Steve finishes petting Zeus and stands. Bucky’s eyes follow his movement and he receives a smile that makes his heart skip a beat. Peter, seeing Steve up and ready to go, addresses the group at large. “Now let’s play, before the blacktop starts melting.”

They split into teams in order of their arrival. Sam, Steve and Peter take on Clint, Thor and Bucky. Since Peter is only a couple of inches shorter than Thor, he’s in charge of guarding the big man. Sam doesn’t even bother asking…he just takes Clint, leaving Steve to guard Bucky. Steve thinks this is a sensational idea, because he can then bump into him accidentally on purpose a few times during the course of the game. He even touches his back occasionally (all in the name of good, competitive basketball, of course) and gets a charge out of how strong and solid Bucky’s muscled frame feels under his touch. 

If his friends realize what he’s doing, they at least keep their mouths shut about it and don’t give him away. Bucky is guarding Steve, too, which he likes. A tremendous amount. He’s grateful they play basketball and not a sport like ice hockey, where there’s no skin showing, and his hands would be covered by gloves. Basketball is full of contact. The only thing better would be wrestling. 

So Steve enjoys not only brushing up against Bucky’s hard body, but Bucky occasionally putting his hands on Steve as well. God, is it amazing. Basketball is the best sport EVER. As they play, Steve imagines Bucky’s hands on him, doing other things. He knows his face must be beet red, and not all due to the air temperature, but nobody calls him on it. Sam does give him an occasional stare and lopsided grin, but stays silent, and after a while, Steve stops worrying about it. 

The competitive nature in them all comes out, and everyone plays to win. Steve can’t help but notice how well Bucky holds his own against the rest of them. In fact, he’s probably one of the better players amongst them, very light on his feet and with good hands. Clint, however, is having an off day and can’t hit the broad side of a barn, so Steve’s side wins by a nose. 

Clint rips off his shirt, partly in disgust with his level of play and partly because it’s pretty well soaked in sweat. The day had only gotten more and more sultry as they played; it’s the kind of day that starts off sunny, then clouds up as the heat builds. Cicadas have started to sing early and loudly, and there will most likely be a thunderstorm later on. Steve opts to keep his shirt on, mostly just because he doesn’t like carrying his sweaty shirt in his hands back to his apartment, but holds his breath and wishes on whatever lucky star, three leaf clover, or rabbit’s foot is nearby for Bucky to remove his. 

And then it happens. The shirt comes _off_ , and suddenly Steve has goosebumps and tingly skin everywhere on his body. He was already breathing heavily from exertion, but now the air has been completely sucked out of his lungs. Bucky pulls his shirt off from the bottom hem and stretches his arms high over his head, drawing his abdominal muscles tight in the process. 

He’s cut _everywhere._ Stomach. Pecs. Shoulders. He turns away from Steve to pick up his water bottle and take a long pull, and _oh sweet jesus._ His back looks just as defined as his chest. There’s not an extra bit of fat on him anywhere. Steve wants to run his hands all over every part of that anatomy until he’s got it all memorized. 

He doesn’t realize how intently he’s staring until Sam comes up behind him and takes him unawares, shoving his foot into the back of his knee to make it buckle. Steve’s leg crumples, but he’s agile enough to catch himself without falling. Clint laughs heartily at him; Steve turns and looks guiltily at his best friend. 

“You’re welcome,” Sam whispers, and Steve knows what he’s talking about. He’d hate to get busted red-handed for staring, and sure enough, Bucky is looking at both of them now, wondering what just happened that he missed. 

Steve keeps moving, heading over to the grass where Thor has plopped down and sits with his long legs stuck out in front of him, recovering. Steve plunks down, too, facing the court. Clint comes to his rescue this time, striking up conversation, not especially to help Steve out but more because he’s the inquisitive type. 

“So, Bucky, what do you do for fun, besides build houses?”

Bucky lets out a big pent-up breath and squats down on his haunches, squinting up at him. “Oh, I don’t know, I like to be outside a lot. Skiing and mountain-biking.” He pauses and thinks. 

Steve thinks, too. _No wonder his thighs are like tree trunks_ , is the most prevalent thought in his head. Peter has perked up, hearing of another outdoor nut. 

“Yeah? You ever rock climb?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nope, never tried that.”

“It’ll change your life,” Peter declares, and sits down on top of the basketball, perching there precariously. 

“Or end it,” Steve says dubiously, and Peter snorts dismissively. 

“Don’t listen to him. Next time I go, I’ll let you know,” he tells Bucky.

Bucky grins. “Steve, not the adventurous type?”

He shrugs lightly. “Skiing and biking, sure. Heights aren’t my thing.” 

“He means he wets his pants at the tops of tall buildings,” Sam reveals. 

There are chortles nearby. Steve musters up as much dignity as he can. “Bite me, Sam.” 

Bucky is smiling as he asks, “Any of you guys play Fantasy Football?”

There is a general outcry from everyone. Of _course_ they play Fantasy Football. 

“I have an unbeatable system,” Clint boasts, “But you’re welcome to join our league anyway. We’ll be forming up soon.”

“Sweet,” Bucky responds. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with my bingo time.” He shoots a sideways glance at Steve and smirks slyly. 

“Hey now!” Steve pretends to pout. “That _could_ have been true.”

There are a few snickers at that, before Thor pokes more fun at him. “So Steve, I own this bridge you might be interested in.” 

What is it, pick on Steve day? He rolls his eyes in Thor’s direction. “Whatever.”

With a chuckle, Bucky rises back to his feet. “I’m baking over here. Think I’ll grab Zeus and take him in to get him some water.”

That breaks up the party, so to speak, as everyone is ready to get out of the blistering sun now looming overhead. As much as Steve was enjoying conversation with Bucky, he’s glad to head in, too. They all grab their water bottles (and shirts, in Clint and Bucky’s cases) and make for the door. Clint asks for Bucky’s email so he can be added to their Fantasy Football communications. Peter heads off for his own building. 

“Good luck with your flying lesson!” Sam shouts over, and Peter gives him a mock salute before hitting his own door. 

“Peter’s taking flying lessons?” Thor asks, and Steve and Sam both nod.

“Cool,” volunteers Clint.

Sam drops back next to Steve to confirm their plans for the night. “Nat gets off at five. See you around six?”

Steve nods. He has conveniently placed himself next to Bucky and Zeus, and looks to his new acquaintance. “What have you got going on tonight?”

Bucky swings his shirt over one shoulder. “Going to see my parents. They insist I come over for dinner once a month,” he shares with a smile.

“That’s nice!” Steve says, and means it. 

“Yeah, except my dad gives Zeus table scraps, and then he spends the next week begging and acting like he deserves my food for dinner.” 

Steve and Sam laugh at that, and then all too soon, they must part ways. Clint and Thor head off down the hallway on the first floor, while the other three climb the stairs. Bucky’s door is first, then Steve’s. Sam pats him on the back at his door. 

“Nice job not having an orgasm during the game, bro. I’m proud of you. Next week let’s work on not drooling.”

Steve shakes his head and smiles. “That’s a tall order. Adulting is so hard sometimes.”

Sam laughs and gives him a thumbs up sign. “I know it is, baby. Keep up the good work.”

Not drooling is a lofty goal in Steve’s opinion, especially if there are more shirtless days. He hopes there are a LOT of shirtless days.


	3. You Can Handle Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve continues pining for his hot neighbor, and finally gets maybe what is possibly an _inkling_ of interest back. It's a start. And in the meantime, Steve makes himself indispensable as golf teacher and web-designing savior of Bucky's business (according to Darcy Lewis, anyway).

Chapter Three

As soon as Steve gets in his door after the basketball game, his phone starts vibrating with messages. He doesn’t have to use a lot of brain power to figure out who they’re from. Clint sends the first: _“Was it good for you?”_

Next comes Thor’s text: _“I have a pack of cigs if you need to light up.”_

Even Peter sends something. _“Feel like I just watched soft porn. Are you and new guy getting it on already?”_

"I have terrible friends," Steve says to himself. He sends out a group text: _“All of you STFU”_.

He figures that should take care of that. But the next week of his life passes so slowly, he suspects he has fallen into a time warp, or worm-hole, or some other science-fictiony thing he doesn’t really understand. How can it be possible for seven days to take so long? And not to jump ahead too far, but what is he going to do over the winter, when he can’t play basketball with Bucky? Maybe ice hockey wouldn’t be so bad…he could fall on top of him every once in a while. That could be fun. And probably unavoidable, since he can barely stay upright on skates. He pictures himself trying to make it around a rink with a hockey stick in his hands. It’s not pretty. _Maybe you should just stick to basketball._

Finally the next weekend arrives, and it’s Saturday morning. And raining. They don’t play when it’s raining. Steve moans when he wakes and sees the weather outside his window. He whines about it later to Sam, only a little. Or incessantly, depending upon who you asked. 

“Yes, Steve,” Sam placates him again. “I know rain is the devil’s work. At least the forecast is sunny for tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” Steve mopes, undeterred by Sam’s positivity. 

He and Bucky agreed on late morning to go to the driving range for his first lesson. Steve has his own clubs thrown over one shoulder and his extra set on the other as he heads down two doors and uses his foot to knock on Bucky’s door. His heart is already pounding pretty loudly in his chest in anticipation.

It opens promptly, and Bucky steps forward right away to pull one set off of his shoulder. “Here, let me take that,” he volunteers. His hand brushes Steve’s shoulder when he takes the bag. Instantly his skin tingles like a low electric current has touched him.

“Thanks. Ready to go?” 

“Yeah, all ready. And thank you again for doing this.” 

Steve makes some sort of noise in his throat that he hopes conveys his willingness to be Bucky’s instructor. Bucky has his hair back in a tidy, low pony. He looks edible. Steve fights back a desire to nibble along his exposed jawline and up toward one ear. He is surprised not to hear any barking, and tears his eyes away from Bucky’s face to peek around him and look inside his apartment. His eyes drop down and there’s Zeus, sitting just inside the door, looking at him. He wags his tail like he recognizes Steve, which surprises him yet again. 

“Hey, Zeus,” Steve says in greeting, and gets a single return woof, quiet and succinct. He turns and smiles at Bucky. “He didn’t bark and me and Sam the other day, either.”

“Well, then he was eating dinner, and _nothing_ interrupts dinner. But he does remember everyone he meets,” Bucky tells him, and cocks his head at his dog. “Be good while I’m gone, buddy.” 

Zeus wags his tail faster, so his whole hind end sways back and forth. It makes Steve chuckle as Bucky closes the door. “You don’t have to put him in a kennel or something while you’re gone?”

They set off down the hall and toward the stairs. “He’s got one if he wants to get in it, but mostly he sleeps on the couch.” Bucky hikes the bag over his other shoulder. “Shame about the rain yesterday, I was looking forward to another game,” he says conversationally.

 _You and me both, sexy._ “Yeah, me too,” Steve agrees with every fiber of his being. “You know,” he looks sideways at his companion, “You’re better than you let on.”

Bucky grins broadly. “And you’re pretty handsy when you guard. Shoulda been at least five personal fouls on you.” 

Steve can’t help laughing, even as he feels his cheeks pink up. He’s not always _that_ handsy, but Bucky doesn’t need to know that. “Sam hates playing against me.” 

Bucky grins. “Maybe he just can’t handle you like I can. Besides, I said I played MORE baseball, not that I didn’t play ANY basketball.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” Steve responds cheekily, trying to ignore the sudden hot spike of lust in his gut brought on by the way Bucky said “handle you”. A coil of heat starts low in his belly and spreads like warm honey. Did he mean it to sound so… _flirty?_

They are outside now and Steve nods his head toward his vehicle. “Over here, the black one.” He pushes the hatch release on his key fob and they load up the clubs. “So how long have you and Thor known each other?” he asks curiously. The question has already been posed to Thor, of course, but he got the completely unsatisfying answer of, “Oh, I don’t know. A while.”

Bucky initially hmm’s as he ponders this, then guesses, “I think five years.” He is silent as he thinks some more. “Yes, five. But we’ve worked together more in the last couple of years than we ever did before that.”

“And why is that?” Steve wants to know.

“Because Thor is a great electrician,” Bucky says plainly. “I subcontract to him whenever I can get him now. He’s starting another house for me soon, actually.”

“Do you like your job a lot?”

Bucky nods. “I love it. Wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

He likes the easy way Bucky delivers a compliment, like praise isn’t a hard thing for him to dole out. They are moving through traffic now, and he feels comfortable with Bucky and nervous at the same time. He looks so good. He smells so good. And he’s sitting in Steve’s car with him! Steve wonders what it’s like to work with him. He guesses he keeps his cool pretty much all the time, tries to imagine Bucky blowing up at someone, and fails. 

Bucky picks up another work-themed line of conversation. “So what is your job that Sam isn’t smart enough to understand, anyway?” A small smile is playing around his mouth. 

“Oh…I’m a web designer,” Steve tells him. “Sam is a radiologist,” he adds, by way of explanation. “I like to tease him every once in a while so his head doesn’t get too big.” 

Bucky chuckles. “Only once in a while?”

That makes Steve laugh as well. “Maybe slightly more often than once in a while.” 

“You two been friends for a long time?”

Steve smiles contentedly. “The longest. Since we were kids. He’s a great guy.”

They have a short discussion on where they grew up, what schools they attended, and other basics until they arrive at the driving range. They go into the small shop to purchase buckets of balls before hauling out the clubs. Actually Bucky purchases two buckets of balls, insisting to Steve that he pay for them in return for getting free lessons. 

Buckets and clubs then in hand, they make their way down to the least crowded section of the range. As they pass the putting green, Bucky looks at Steve and asks, his voice hopeful, if they are going to start there. 

“Nope,” Steve shakes his head and keeps walking. 

Bucky pretends to pout. “But that’s the part I’m good at.”

Steve chuckles. “That’s why we’re not starting there.”

They find a relatively quiet spot halfway down and set up some tees. Steve first goes over what the various types of clubs are used for and then pulls out his driver. Bucky follows suit. Steve demonstrates what the proper stance is, how to hold the club, and the basics of a golf swing. As he talks he keeps his eyes on Bucky to make sure he’s still with him. He doesn’t have to worry about Bucky’s eyes glazing over in confusion or lack of interest. His student is attentive and seems to learn fast, so he thinks they’re ready to try some practice swings. 

Steve stands in front, facing him, so that he can watch his technique, give pointers and demonstrate a swing again if needed. Bucky’s got the stance right, but his hands are too close together on the club. 

“Here, like this,” he says, and shows his pupil how he wants his hands to look. Bucky adjusts a little and the spacing is better, but now his thumb is wrong. Steve takes a step in closer and touches Bucky’s hand, moving his thumb to where he wants it. “There, like that,” he directs him. “Now you’re good.”

“Oh…yeah, thanks,” Bucky says, sounding a little distracted. 

Steve feels some distraction too, but probably not for the same reason. Bucky has a lot to process, and Steve’s just focused on how heavenly his skin felt. His hands are not rough, despite what Steve assumes is a lot of hands-on work on a daily basis. Steve steps back again and Bucky takes his first swing. 

“Okay, good,” Steve encourages him. “Rotate your hips more. You can’t just power through it with upper body strength.” 

Bucky eyes him warily. “This is a lot to think about all at once, Steve.”

The blond smiles. “Yeah, but it gets easier, more automatic, the more you practice.” 

“If you say so,” Bucky says, but his eyes are doubtful. 

He takes a couple more slow swings, then regular speed swings, and Steve pronounces him ready to try hitting the ball. As he is setting one up on a tee, Steve wishes he was standing in back of him so he could see that ass, but oh well, too late now to move. Plus he’s got to be in front for teaching purposes. Bucky gets set, brings the club back, head down, and swings. He misses the ball entirely, taking a chunk of grass and dirt up and sending it shooting out onto the driving range about ten yards. 

Steve tries unsuccessfully not to smile, but Bucky is smiling when he looks back at Steve anyway, so he doesn’t feel too badly about it.

“I meant to do that,” he jokes. 

“You took your eyes off the ball too early,” Steve makes an educated guess. “Keep your eyes on the ball, and _then_ follow through. Otherwise, your swing looked really nice.” 

“Eyes on the ball,” Bucky mutters, and lines himself up again. 

“Thumb,” Steve reminds him, and the thumb in question shifts back into place.

This time Bucky does make contact with the ball. It sails forward about thirty yards and then bounces another seventy-five. 

Steve nods. “Yep.”

Leaning on his club, Bucky looks at him. “What does ‘yep’ mean?”

“Yep means you just need to keep practicing, and it will get better.” 

Bucky shrugs. “Okay. Now I want to see you swing again.”

“Me? Sure,” Steve says affably, and turns around. Bucky follows, moving around in front of him to watch as Steve drills one to the back of the driving range, out at the 275 yard marker. Then he moves around in back again as Steve plucks another ball out of his bucket and places it on a new tee. He’s only slightly self-conscious, with Bucky’s eyes on him from behind, knowing what _he’d_ be staring at.

 _He’s just looking at your form_ , he tells himself, and takes a swing. The ball slices wickedly, heading off about forty yards in the wrong direction. Steve stops and considers that for a moment.

“That’s what you call a slice,” he announces in a self-deprecating tone, and turns to see Bucky beaming at him. 

“Good to know you do it, too.” He swoops down to pick up another ball from his bucket. “So, practice makes perfect, right?”

Steve smiles back. “That’s the general idea.” 

He swivels back around and is less nervous this time, since he knows Bucky will be hitting from his tee rather than watching him. He lets Bucky hit as he works through his own bucket, keeping an eye on where Bucky’s shots are going. Little by little they are going further out before bouncing on the crabgrass. Periodically he flips around to watch Bucky’s technique and make sure he’s not forming any bad habits. Or more accurately, part of him watches Bucky’s technique and part of him just watches the way Bucky moves, enjoying those muscles all working together in concert. 

“Widen your stance,” he instructs him once, and at another point, it’s “Don’t drop your right shoulder so much.” 

“You’re pretty demanding,” Bucky teases, head down as he lines up his club.

Steve can’t help smiling like a loon. He’s enjoying this way more than he should. “But you can handle me, remember?” 

The motion of Bucky’s club stops. He’s still looking down, but Steve can see the smile spread across his face, and it can only be described as _naughty_. Steve gets a hot flash of fire that lodges straight in his groin. Then Bucky chuckles and shakes his head slightly, resuming his line-up to the ball. Steve has trouble breathing for a while and forming lucid thoughts, but eventually he recovers. _Hmmm_ , he thinks. Today is first day he’s gotten any kind of responses that might indicate interest on Bucky's part, and it feels promising.

They continue hitting until their buckets run low. Overall, Bucky does a great job for a first-timer. He tells him so when they knock off and take a break. 

“I’m actually tired out,” Bucky confesses. 

“You just need to develop your muscle memories, and then you’ll be fine,” Steve promises. 

A few stray hairs have made their way out of Bucky’s ponytail and drift across his cheek with the light breeze, just begging to be tucked back behind his ear. Steve manages to control that impulse and squats down to pick up his bucket instead.

“We can stop now, and come back again next weekend if you like. You’ll need to get some swings in regularly at first, so you don’t forget everything. But you could come alone, too.”

Bucky has his bucket in hand and they stick their drivers back into their bags. “No, I’d rather you came with me, if you don’t mind. It’s a lot more complicated than I expected, and I might forget that thumb thing.”

Steve can’t help a little giggle, in part because “thumb thing” sounded funny, and in part out of pure joy. Come back with him? Huh. Why would he want to do that? 

“Sure, I’ll come back with you as often as you want. When we get out on a real course we can start on woods and irons.”

Bucky groans in mock protest. “You mean I have to use those _other_ clubs too?”

\--

So that was their first teaching outing, and Steve considered it to be highly successful. Not only did Bucky like golf enough to make plans with him again for next Sunday, Steve got in both ogling time and conversation time. That’s what he called a win. Sam also kept tabs on the situation, hopeful for an eventual fourth person for their league. 

“So, how did it go?” he inquired, next time he saw Steve. “You’re going to turn him into Arnold Palmer for us, right?”

Steve laughed. “It went pretty well. He didn’t get scared off enough to quit, but he’s a beginner, Sam. You could always find some other docs to golf with, right? Don’t all doctors golf?”

Sam makes a frowny face. “That is so stereotypical of you, Steve. I’d say only about …ninety percent of our doctors golf.” 

Steve laughs again as Sam goes on. “And in the second place, no, I don’t want to golf with doctors, because then they wanna talk about work the whole time. And I don’t wanna talk about work while I’m golfing. It ruins my Zen. So I’m _counting_ on you, dude.”

“I’ll do my best,” Steve reassures him, patting his back. 

Steve next pops down to see Thor, under the guise of checking out the latest batch of home brew that he and Clint had cooked up. They recently had gotten into experimenting with different beer recipes, and did like to share their results. Thor, however, sees through his pretense right away. They are hanging out in Thor’s kitchen; Steve thinks he’s being very nonchalant when he tells Thor that Bucky mentioned him starting a house for him soon. 

Thor’s eyes twinkle when he hands him their latest concoction. “Here, try this. It’s got clove in it,” he leans in and shares, like that’s top secret information that Steve shouldn’t spread around. Then he adds, “And you may as well tell me what you really want.” 

Steve is mid-sip and almost spits it back out. He plops down on one of Thor’s bar stools and looks at him.

Thor grins, leans against the counter and continues, “But I think I can guess. You want to go see one of Bucky’s houses?” 

Steve nods sheepishly. “Kinda. And this is _really_ good!” He takes another swig. 

Thor’s grin grows wider. “Well, thank you! Just for that, I’ll let you tag along when I go out to see the house this week.” 

“Yeah?” Steve looks optimistic. “I won’t be in the way?”

“I go and walk through in the evening anyway, after the other workmen knock off for the day. I like to make sure everything in the plans is doable. You’re welcome to ride along.”

Clinking his bottle against Thor’s, Steve smiles happily. He’s not really sure why he wants to go and see one of Bucky’s projects. Maybe it will give him more insight into what kind of person he is. Maybe he just wants to see and touch something that Bucky created. Whatever the reason, he just _wants_ to. 

He eagerly awaits Thor’s call later that week. It comes on Thursday afternoon. Steve is working from home that day, which is one of the perks of his job. He could sit around in pajamas and bunny slippers if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he _could_. Instead he gets up at his normal time (okay, maybe a little later. After all, he doesn’t have to drive in to work, right?), showers and dresses as usual, and gets to work. If he didn’t have the discipline to do that, then he really _would_ be sitting around in PJ’s all day. 

Thor is going to swing by and pick him up around five. They need to stop at Bucky’s office and pick up the electrical plans, and then go see the house. _Jackpot!_ is Steve’s first thought; he’ll get to see Bucky’s office, too. Then he has second thoughts…what if Bucky is there? He really doesn’t want to come off as being stalkerish, but he doesn’t want to make up a lie about why he’s with Thor, either. 

He texts Thor back and asks about this, and of course, Thor has it covered. _“Bucky won’t be there, just his office manager, Darcy. You’re with me because Eric and I want to update our website, and you and I are going to discuss it.”_

Eric Selvig is Thor’s business partner, a fellow electrician. Thor did his apprenticeship with Eric and then never left, as the two of them got on so well together. 

_“We are?”_ Steve texts back. Thor sends back a smiley face. 

When Thor collects Steve at his door and whisks him off to Bucky’s office, Steve asks if he’s being serious about the website. 

“Totally!” Thor answers. “We're overdue for an update, and we’ll pay whatever the usual freelance fee is. Interested?”

“Sure!” is Steve’s instant reply. He doesn’t even have to think about this one. It’ll be an easy job, and he likes being able to help out friends. 

They drive a bit longer, but really the place is not far from their apartment building. Steve has probably passed it hundreds of times and never really paid that much attention to it. Bucky’s office is part of a strip mall, with a UPS store on one side and a barbershop on the other. Steve eyes the Dairy Queen on the other end hungrily, thinking that an Oreo cookie Blizzard sure would hit the spot, then brings his eyes back to the neatly lettered sign extending the length of the office frontage. “Barnes Construction”, it reads. White, blocky letters against a brown roof. Businesslike, not ostentatious. In the parking lot are two clean-looking vans with the same lettering on the sides. 

“It’s nice,” Steve says, partly to Thor and partly to himself. 

Thor glances at him as he parks his car and chuckles. “Were you expecting a dungeon of some kind?”

“No!” 

“Well then, let’s go in.” 

Exiting the car together, they walk up to the glass door and Thor pulls it open, allowing Steve to enter first. There is a small reception area with chairs, end tables with potted plants, and a long counter dividing the front reception area from the offices in the back. Behind the counter sits a young woman with long, dark hair, full, red lips, manicured fingernails, and an air that says, “Come talk to me, but don’t piss me off!” 

She looks up from the desk space in front of her and grins when she sees Thor enter. “Thor! Have you finally come to sweep me off my feet and take me to Aruba?”

“No Aruba today, Darcy,” Thor says sorrowfully. “I just need the plans for the Wilson project.” 

“And what about your friend, here?” Darcy says appraisingly, eyeing Steve up and down. “He looks like he could do plenty of sweeping.” 

Steve smiles, a bit shyly, as Thor introduces him. “Darcy, this is Steve Rogers, a friend of mine. Steve, meet Darcy Lewis, office manager extraordinaire.” 

Steve extends a hand over the counter. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, in a friendly voice. 

Darcy’s eyes cut from Thor back to Steve, and she leans forward to take his hand. “Charmed, I’m sure,” she replies, and smiles. 

She rises and walks to a large filing cabinet on the wall behind her, squatting down awkwardly in her pencil skirt and boots to find the W’s. She pulls it open and addresses Steve. “I’ve been waiting years for Thor to ask me to elope with him, and I’m still waiting.” She pulls a file out and brings it back to her desk.

Dropping one forearm on the waist-high countertop, Thor banters back, “You know you’d take one look at my flannel-filled closet and bolt, Darcy.” 

As she flips through the file she laughs, a high, musical sound. 

“What’s wrong with flannel?” Steve asks; she laughs again and holds up the papers Thor wants. 

“Here you go, darling,” she hands them over, and looks back at Steve again. Her eyes narrow. “Wait, your name is Steve?”

“Yes,” he confirms uncertainly, wondering if Bucky actually _talked_ about him. 

“The Steve who lives in the same apartment building Bucky just moved into?”

“Yes,” he repeats himself, a sense of hope and excitement starting to build. What would Bucky have said to her?

“The Steve who does web design?” Darcy looks even more interested now, resting both her hands on her desk and leaning forward slightly.

“One and the same,” Steve replies, trying to stay cool. He is avoiding looking at Thor, who surely has a cheesy grin on his face. 

“Do you ever freelance? Because Bucky really needs to join the 21st century and get a website. We've been talking about it for forever.” She sits one cheek down on her desk and swings one leg back and forth.

Steve can’t help but feel a little deflated, but tries not to show it. Bucky only mentioned him because of his _job_. “Oh…um, yes, I do freelance actually. You mean to say he has no website _at all?_ ” Steve can hardly believe that, but Thor snickers like that’s no news to him.

“Nope. He always said he was busy enough already, which is actually sort of true,” she admits, “But still, in this day and age, everyone has a website.” She drops her voice to a stage whisper. “It’s just not natural.”

Steve grins. “Well I could help with that, if he really is interested,” and the dark-haired woman nods emphatically and claps her hands together.

“Ugh, thank God for you, Steve! Finally we might make some progress! He doesn’t trust just anyone, so it's been a battle of wills between me and him. I’ll tell him that we talked, and have him work out the details with you.” She picks up a business card from a holder on her desk and hands it across. “Here’s my number, if you need anything from me.”

Steve takes it from her and looks at it, then back to her. “But how do you know he trusts me?” 

Her plump lips stretch out into a wide grin. “Because he said Zeus likes you.”

Thor laughs and pushes off from the counter, papers in hand, so Steve takes that as their cue to leave. “Great meeting you, Darcy, and thanks.” He waves the business card and turns to go. 

“Pleasure’s all mine, honey,” Darcy says saucily, and throws out to Thor, “You got more friends you’ve been hiding from me, Thor, you bring ‘em on in, you hear?”

Thor belly laughs, waves good-bye, and follows Steve out the door. “Two side jobs in one day, huh? Pretty awesome.”

“Yeah, pretty awesome,” Steve agrees. “Darcy seems, uh…fun,” he comments as they climb back into the car.

“Darcy’s fantastic,” Thor agrees. “She’s been with Bucky for as long as I can remember.”

“But you two have never gone out?”

Thor laughs lightly as they take off. “No way. She’s great, but way too high maintenance for me. We would drive each other crazy. She knows it, too, she just likes to tease.” He looks sidelong at Steve. “She’d be a good ally to have on your side, though. She’s devoted to him.”

Steve keeps that in mind as they chat the rest of the way and park in the street in front of the construction project. Just as Thor said, the place is devoid of life, workers having finished up for the day already. It’s a two story craftsman style home, with a low-pitched roof and front porch that runs the width of the house. _Fuck_ , thinks Steve. He loves craftsman style houses. 

There is a front door installed, but no doorknob or lock, so they push in and enter into the open interior. The great room and kitchen are adjoining, with a large stone fireplace and reclaimed wood mantel. On either side of the fireplace are built-in bookcases. The windows are tall and wide, letting in a lot of natural light. The room is _beautiful_. Steve just stands there and stares, while Thor moves about, comparing his plans to the actual space.

“Bucky’s really great with attention to detail,” Thor compliments him. “And he doesn’t freak out when owners want to change things at the last minute.” He turns and looks at Steve. “Owners _always_ want to change things last minute.” 

Steve grins and walks over to the fireplace, touching the cool beige stone and running his hand down the mantel. “This is gorgeous.”

Thor nods. “Yeah, Bucky has an affinity for stonework.” 

Steve looks at him in surprise. “You mean he actually did this part himself?”

Thor nods. “Yeah, always does. That’s how he got his start in construction, I believe.”

Steve looks at the stones again, touching them lightly. Bucky _made_ this. He’s glad he bugged Thor to let him come with him. 

They make their way through the rest of the house and Steve admits to being impressed. Everything looks professional and well done, no sloppy short-cuts that he can see. It’s not that he was expecting something different; it kind of reinforces the expectation he already had. Bucky is a hardworking, conscientious man. 

One Steve is crushing on, harder than he ever has before.


	4. I Like Things Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a glimpse into Steve's work place, and Steve has a couple of conversations with Bucky that shed some light on what's going on in Bucky's head. And also give Steve major feels. Which he knows exactly how to handle. Not.

Chapter Four

Next morning, Steve rolls into work feeling pretty good about life in general. He’s got a travel mug of coffee in one hand and his laptop case in the other as he enters the office occupied by the firm he works for. The receptionist sits at one end of a giant room, guarding the door. It’s windowed on two sides, with dark blue industrial carpet throughout. There are a bunch of cubicles set up in the middle of the space, containing large desks and computer desktops, with private offices and conference rooms around half the perimeter. Their firm handles both graphic design and web design, so it’s bustling with activity most days. Steve strides past his neighbor’s cubicle and pokes his head in through the opening. 

“Hey Maria,” he calls out, and the occupant sitting inside, a graphic designer with a slender figure and sharp eye for detail, answers back, “Morning, Steve. Happy Friday!”

Steve smiles. Friday! He almost forgot it _was_ Friday. He sets his stuff down on the end of his desk and peeks over the top of his cubicle into the one on the other side. Tony Stark is already there, staring intently at his computer screen. He’s about a decade older than Steve but not greying yet, with dark hair and goatee. 

“Psst, Tony!” Steve whispers loudly. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” 

Tony’s head swivels and he looks at Steve with an exasperated expression. “Steve, has anyone ever told your boy Clint that he’s OCD? I just got the email instructions for this year’s league, and there are even MORE rules than last year!” 

Steve grins and folds his arms on top of the cubicle wall. “Pretty sure he already knows that. When are we drafting?” 

Tony leans back dangerously far in his chair and bounces a little in it. “Not for another couple of weeks. I’m just getting prepared. We going to do it at your place again?” 

Steve shrugs. “Sure, why not?” Every year they’ve done their Fantasy Football league, they all get together on draft day. Even though they are drafting players online, they like to razz each other in person for any terrible selections they make, and make wild predictions on who’s going to have the best team. Everyone puts money into a pot at the beginning of the season. First and second places get money back, so competition is fierce. Steve just missed out, coming in third last year behind Clint and Sam. Tony finished dead last. 

“You want to pay me now and save yourself the trouble later?” Steve teases, and Tony makes a rude gesture. 

“I’ll not be repeating that finish from last year, thanks. I’ve got a new system,” he boasts.

Steve rolls his eyes. “That’s exactly what Clint says.” He withdraws his forearms from the top of the cubicle.

“You’ll see,” Tony’s voice floats over the top of the wall as Steve sits down at his desk to get started for the day. 

He’s got a lot of projects he’s working on, so the time passes quickly, and at noon he heads for the break room with Tony and Maria. Some days he packs his lunch (especially if he’s got good leftovers from the day before) and sometimes they decide to go out. Today it’s leftover lasagna. The break room has several round tables with plastic chairs to sit at, and a long counter on the wall houses the basics: refrigerator, microwave, coffee maker, and toaster oven. 

The three of them set down their lunch bags and Steve pulls out his lasagna to heat up. Maria stares longingly. 

“Oh, Steve, is that homemade?”

He grins and nods; he learned early on in life how to cook, and rather enjoys it. But cooking for one means he has a freezer full of single portion leftovers, ready-made for work lunches. Like his lasagna. 

Maria looks down at her salad disappointedly and forks into it with a vicious stab. “Ugh,” she grunts. 

Steve turns on the microwave and sits back down to wait. “Whatcha got going on this weekend, you two?” he asks interestedly.

Tony pulls out a sandwich and unwraps it. “Pepper and I are having a date night.”

“Awwwww, that’s so sweet!” Maria gushes. “What are you going to do?”

“Dinner and a movie.” Tony takes a bite of turkey and ham on wheat. 

The microwave dings and Steve hops up to grab his food. The microwave, typical for an office, is old and grungy looking, but his lasagna smells divine. “What movie?” he asks.

“Hopefully something violent and bloody,” Tony answers, grinning. 

Steve laughs, while Maria scrunches up her nose. “Seriously?”

“No,” Tony admits, deflating a bit. “We’ll probably see something _romantic_.” 

The last word is said with distaste. Steve and Maria both smile now. Pepper, Tony’s longtime girlfriend, usually gets her way with whatever she wants. No, not usually. Always. Tony would bend over backward for her and do a tap dance if she asked him to. 

“What about you, Maria?” Steve asks, and takes a giant bite of lasagna.

Maria toys with her fork. “Well, actually, Steve,” she starts hesitantly, “I need some muscle to help me move an armoire. And you know your muscles are my favorite,” she jokes, a gleam in her eye. 

Chuckling, Steve dips his fork back into his meal. “Sure, I can do that. Should I bring a friend?”

Looking apologetic, Maria nods. “If you can. It was my grandmother’s, and it’s huge, and oak.” Steve groans, and she sets down her fork and hides her eyes behind her fingers. “And it has to go up a flight of stairs.” 

Both men groan. “I’d help,” Tony inserts, “Only I don’t want to.” He grins as his two lunch mates laugh. Tony was still recovering from recent sinus surgery and _couldn’t_ help, which they all knew. 

Steve thinks out loud. “Sam’s on duty. Maybe I can get Thor and stop by. Tomorrow late morning work for you?”

“That’s perfect! Thank you.” 

She sounds genuinely thankful, and that gives Steve a warm feeling in his chest. The pretty brunette is also one of the sweetest people he’s ever met, so anytime he could swoop in and help her out in a time of need, he would do so without hesitation. They finish their lunches and return to work, counting down the minutes and hours till its weekend time. 

Steve loves his job, he really does, but his job isn’t the only thing important in his life. Work is work, and not what defines him. When it’s time to go, they all hit the parking lot with pep in their steps. He makes it home through Friday rush hour traffic ready to relax, but does plan on doing a little bit to get a start on Thor’s and Eric’s website. 

After changing into shorts and an old, faded t-shirt, he grabs a bite to eat. Darcy’s business card is sitting on the counter in his kitchen and as he walks past it, he wonders idly if anything will come of her offer. He continues on down the hall and sits down with his laptop. Like Sam’s, his apartment is also a two-bedroom unit, and he uses the second bedroom as a home office. There is a small TV set up in there as well for background noise. Sometimes he puts on a game, sometimes he listens to music—just as long as it’s not too quiet. Today he flips over to a baseball game. 

He’s been working for around an hour when there is a knock on his door. Leaving the TV on, he traipses over and flings the door open. His heart jumps up into his throat when he sees Bucky standing in the hallway, also casually dressed in shorts and t-shirt. 

“Hi!” Steve calls out, and invites him in. 

“I’m not interrupting anything?” Bucky asks, before crossing the threshold. 

“No, not at all,” Steve assures him. Bucky could be interrupting the writing of the Ten Commandments, and Steve would still drop it all and invite him in. He points in the direction of his kitchen. “Can I get you anything?” 

“Oh, no,” Bucky waves him off and sits down on Steve’s couch, a big, soft overstuffed monstrosity Steve likes to sink into and take naps on. Steve sits down in an armchair next to and facing towards him and speaks first. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Bucky leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees. “Darcy told me you and Thor stopped by the office yesterday, and she let out my dirty little secret.” 

Steve smirks. “You mean that you don’t have a website for your business?” 

Bucky grins back. “That’s the one.” 

“I didn’t know there was anyone left in the Universe who didn’t, but it begs the question…do you actually want a website?” Steve’s hoping for a yes. As in, _Yes, and I only want you to do it, because you’re amazing and I also want to date you._ When Steve dreams, he dreams big. 

Bucky smiles a little, looks off in the distance as if he’s thinking on it, then brings his eyes back to Steve’s, penetrating him with seemingly no effort at all. Steve has the feeling he could fall into those eyes and get lost in there for an eternity. 

“I do have a domain name,” he admits, “I just never got off my ass and did anything with it. Probably a good time to change that, if you’re interested in taking the job.” 

Steve can’t stop a smile from creeping across his face. “Of course I’ll do it.” 

His new client sits back into a more relaxed pose. “Great! You tell me what to do next. I’m clueless.”

Thinking, Steve absentmindedly runs a hand through his short hair and ruffles it up in front. “Well, we’ll need to talk about what information you want the site to convey, first and foremost, and also the aesthetics. What kind of appearance you want it to have, what colors and graphics you like. That sort of thing. Then when I get a baseline up and running, we can tweak it to your preferences.”

Bucky has an expression on his face like Steve is speaking a foreign language to him. “Uhhhh, OK, the information part I’m good with. The other part…” he scratches his head.

Steve laughs. Bucky really does seem clueless. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you lots of samples, and you pick what style you like. I’ll do the rest.” 

“OK, that doesn’t sound _too_ painful,” Bucky jokes grudgingly, resulting in a crooked smile from Steve.

“I guarantee a painless process,” he pledges. 

“You’ve never worked with me before. I’m technologically challenged,” Bucky admits. “When do you want to start?”

Steve’s not about to let his gorgeous new client get away from him so soon, so he holds up his hands and asks, “No time like the present. You busy for a few right now?”

“Well, actually…no.” Bucky shakes his head. “The only plan I had was sitting on my ass in front of the TV. But I don’t want to intrude…”

Steve lets out an indelicate snort. “You’re not intruding. I just asked you to stay. But if we’re working…” He stands up and pats his stomach. “I need nachos.”

Bucky looks up at him. “You need nachos?” he repeats.

“Yeah. Definitely nachos. And my laptop.” He gestures towards the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t go anywhere.” 

Bucky smiles and chuckles. “Okay. Mind if I check the baseball game?” He points at Steve’s remote control, sitting on the low coffee table in front of him.

“Not at all.” Steve is already moving, heading into the kitchen. He dumps a pile of corn chips onto a plate, heaps on a ton of shredded cheddar cheese, and sticks the plate into the microwave to melt the cheese. As the cheese heats up, he opens up his fridge and stares in. Beer or bottles of water? He meditates for a moment, then grabs two water bottles and a half-used jar of salsa. When the microwave beeps, he pulls out the plate and pours the salsa over the top of the cheese. Voila. 

When he returns to the living room with his bounty, Bucky has the TV on and tuned in to the same baseball game Steve had on in the bedroom, with the volume very low. Steve drops the waters and the plate onto the coffee table and turns back towards the bedrooms. He grabs his laptop, shuts off the small TV in there and scoots back into the living room, re-taking his seat. 

Bucky already has one nacho in his mouth and is crunching it down. Napkins. He forgot napkins. Steve jumps back up and holds up an index finger as Bucky looks at him questioningly. He speed walks to the kitchen again, grabs a few napkins and comes back, setting them down next to the waters. 

“These are good,” Bucky mumbles around another mouthful. 

“I know!” Steve agrees, taking one and popping it into his mouth. Hot cheese promptly burns the roof of his mouth. His eyes bug out slightly. 

Bucky laughs. “By the way, they’re hot.” 

“Yow.” Steve mumbles and pretends to glare at him, then grabs a water bottle and sucks down a large quantity of water. “That didn’t burn your mouth?”

Bucky shrugs one shoulder. “Naw, I like things hot.”

Oh baby. 

Better leave that one alone for now. On his laptop, Steve starts a new file for Bucky’s project. 

“Want me to turn the game off?” Bucky asks, but Steve shakes his head. 

“No, I like the background noise, if that’s okay with you,” he tells him, and when Bucky nods, he starts in with the standard questions he would ask any client. 

Bucky provides all the information he needs with regard to the business end of things. When they get to the aesthetic design is where he falters. “Maybe I should get Darcy’s opinion on this stuff,” he says doubtfully. “I feel like I’m going to pick wrong.”

Steve gives him a little smile to put him at ease. “Look, Buck, there’s no ‘wrong’ here, it’s whatever draws your eye and looks good to you.” Bucky still eyes him uncertainly, so Steve gives in some. “If you like, I can stop by your office again next week and have Darcy take a look.”

Bucky immediately looks more comfortable. “Would you mind?” 

“Of course not,” Steve says truthfully. He’s used to clients wanting input from a third party, be it co-worker, friend or family member; the fact that it will give him another excuse to meet with Bucky has nothing to do with it.

When they are done with the “business” side of things and Steve closes up his laptop, he’s still not ready to let his hot neighbor go. It’s kind of a tricky spot to be in. He doesn’t want to pressure Bucky in any way, but he’d really like to know if there’s any possibility of a relationship other than friendship alone. If he was at a bar getting picked up, this would be a lot easier. But they’re here. In Steve’s apartment. So it’s not easy. Steve remembers the promise he made to himself that he would take the next opportunity that presented itself to spend time with Bucky, so he decides to be bold. 

“We’re done for now,” he announces, and looks directly at his guest. “Since we’re both being homebodies tonight, you’re welcome to stay and watch the rest of the game with me.” Okay, so he and Sam watch sports all the time…maybe it’s not _that_ bold, but it feels like it to Steve. 

“Sure,” Bucky says happily, and his eyes slide over to the empty plate on the coffee table. They had polished off the nachos some time ago.

“And I’ve got more nachos,” Steve tempts him. 

“Excellent!” 

This time when Steve gets up to return to the kitchen, Bucky goes with him. Steve takes the plate with him and dumps more corn chips onto it. Bucky slides onto one of the round barstools at the peninsula. As Steve is rooting into the fridge drawer for more cheese, Bucky asks him if he cooks much. 

Steve comes up with the cheese, pouring it over the chips liberally. “Yeah, I sort of had to learn to fend for myself early on.” He fills Bucky in on the story of how his parents had both died by the time he hit college, and him being an only child, and all that stuff that’s part of who he is. The chips go back into the microwave and he fishes around in an upper cupboard for more salsa. 

“You like olives?” Steve pulls out a jar and holds it up for Bucky’s inspection. The brunet's eyes light up and he nods, so Steve slides those down the counter towards him; Bucky grabs it and wrestles the lid off. Steve digs for the jar of salsa he knows is hiding in there somewhere. 

“So you don’t have much family around?” Bucky’s voice is soft. He’s holding the olives in front of him gently, like the glass might break. 

“Not much,” Steve says lightly, not wanting things to get heavy. “But I get by.” _Aha!_ “Found it!” There’s the salsa. He turns with it, grinning triumphantly, to see Bucky smiling back at him. Pulling the plate out of the microwave and setting it down on the counter, he next opens the jar of salsa and smothers the chips and cheese.

Bucky then pulls the plate closer to himself and spins it around aimlessly. “You don’t have any special guy in your life?” Olives get sprinkled over the top of the concoction.

“No,” Steve answers, then realizes what Bucky just asked. His heartbeat significantly picks up as he quirks an eyebrow at him, picks up the plate to bring back to the living room and motions with his head toward that space.

Sliding off of his stool, Bucky waits until they are back in their seats in front of the TV to answer Steve’s unspoken question. “Thor told me.”

“Thor told you?” Steve’s voice is both amused and pleased. Bucky was _asking_ about him. 

“You know, I needed…character references for that web job,” Bucky explains, but his tone says he knows full well how implausible his words are. He shoves a couple of nachos into his mouth and chomps on them loudly, trying to hide the smile on his lips.

“Character references,” Steve repeats.

“Yeah. Character references.” Bucky looks at him innocently.

Steve is smiling, and his cheeks feel warm. Bucky asked about his dating preference… was it more than just curiosity? Steve wants to think so. There is a mildly flirty atmosphere in the room now that he is enjoying way too much to ruin, so he lets that explanation go without any further challenge and relaxes back in his chair.

Instead he asks Bucky some questions about his work, which gets him talking freely. He likes the sound of Bucky’s voice and the way he talks with his hands a lot. They draw his eyes almost as much as the handsome face does, with the way they move around in the air. He’d like them to move over _him_ the same way, sure and strong. 

Steve is having a rather pleasant mini-fantasy inside his head involving Bucky’s hands on him when he realizes Bucky has asked him a question. 

“Say what now?” he asks, and pops one of the last remaining nachos into his mouth to cover up for his inattentiveness. 

“I said, Thor mentioned you guys usually have a Fantasy Football draft party at the start of the season, is that right?”

“Oh, absolutely! I think we’ll have it at my place again,” Steve confirms. “Seems like Thor has told you a lot of things already,” he teases.

Bucky nods confidentially. “He’s like a secret agent, giving me the inside scoop on everyone in the building. Even Nick, the crazy old guy in 2G who has Harry Potter playing on his TV at all hours.”

Steve laughs. “Nick is harmless.” He takes a sip of water while he thinks. Should he go for it and ask the question that’s been on his mind? He’s going for it. “But Thor is a double agent for me, you know.” He lifts his eyebrows at Bucky suggestively. 

“Oh, he is?” This seems like news to Bucky.

“Yep.” Steve shifts his weight in his chair and sets his water bottle down. No time like the present. “He’s told me some things too…that you don’t date, for instance.” 

Bucky looks a bit flustered. “Oh…uh…yeah.” He shifts in his chair as well. “I was in a pretty long relationship that ended a while back.”

“And then?” Steve prompts him, leaning in absorbedly.

Bucky sighs heavily. “It didn’t end well. Since then I couldn’t… I mean I haven’t…” he pauses and bites his lower lip subconsciously. 

“Haven’t wanted to see anyone else?” Steve says sympathetically.

Slowly Bucky shakes his head. “It’s kind of a long story.” 

“Maybe you just need to get back on the horse again?” Steve says, meaning to be encouraging. He’s never been in the same situation, but the look on Bucky’s face clearly said he isn’t happy about how things turned out. He hates to think of Bucky being alone if that’s not what he wants. In a moment of selflessness, he thinks it would be better to see Bucky happily in a relationship with another man, rather than see him alone and unhappy. 

But Bucky has withdrawn inside himself, folding up his arms. “Maybe the saddle just doesn’t fit anymore,” he says quietly, and glances at the TV. The game has ended without them even noticing. He stands up abruptly, and Steve fears he’s pushed too much. 

“I’d better get back.” 

Well, that’s the end of that conversation. Steve stands nervously and opens his mouth, but no words are forthcoming. His foot feels jammed in there too tightly. 

Just as quickly as Bucky shut him down, he lets him back in, giving him a warm smile as he heads for the door. “See you in the morning?”

 _Basketball._ “Definitely.” Steve tries to sound positive. After all, tomorrow is another day.

\--

Saturday! Steve gets changed and has a banana and some cereal for breakfast. Frosted Flakes, because they’re the best. Since Sam is on duty at the hospital and Steve doesn’t have to go pick him up, he decides to stop at Bucky’s place and see if he’s gone down yet. He raps smartly on the door and it opens almost immediately, like Bucky was already on the way out. He has Zeus on his leash and steps out into the hallway. 

“Hey! Morning,” Bucky says, sounding pretty perky, considering the early hour. 

“Morning!” Steve responds, happy at such a cordial reception. Last night’s conversation seems forgotten, and he’s relieved there’s no sense of tension coming from Bucky. He’d been thinking about what he said, and the rather cryptic comment that maybe the saddle didn’t fit anymore. What did that mean? He’s dying to know more, but doesn’t want to bring it up if Bucky’s unwilling to talk about it.

They share some baseball talk on the way out of the building as they discuss the pennant race, and it feels easy and unforced to Steve. Sure, he still wants to wrap himself around Bucky like a boa constrictor, but he’s getting better at controlling his lust. Thor, Clint, and Peter are already outside when the pair emerge from their building. 

“About time!” Peter heckles them as they approach and drop their water bottles down on the grass. 

Zeus gets tethered in the same spot. He doesn’t even bark this time, which Steve thinks is pretty cool. Yappy dogs annoy him. Since Sam is absent today they have an odd number of players and rock, paper, scissor for first man out on the sideline. Clint loses and plops down in the grass next to Zeus, finding a little bit of shade for first shift. 

Bucky and Thor take on Steve and Peter first. Steve is guarding Bucky and finds that once again, he gets a little grabby. He just can’t help it. Maybe he’s _not_ getting better control of his lust after all. His free pass has expired though, and the trash talking picks up fairly early on. 

Thor rags on him first, standing at one end of the court, dribbling. “Steve, who taught you how to guard, anyway, an octopus? Why don’t you just tackle him?” 

Clint laughs as he stands and brushes the grass off his butt, coming in to replace Peter. “Don’t give him ideas.”

Steve feels a hot flush spread up his neck to his cheeks and looks at Bucky, who stands only a few feet away, grinning at him. 

“What, you call that guarding? My gran guards tougher than that,” he boasts.

Behind Bucky, Peter gives Clint a smack on the back of the head as he passes by him. 

“What?” Clint complains loudly. Bucky turns to see Peter shrugging his shoulders before settling down on the grass. Clint jogs on, ready to play. Fortunately for Steve, who is partnered with him now, his aim is much improved over the last time they played. 

Further into the game, Clint sinks a nice three pointer. "Ohhhhhhh!" he yells, pumping his fist in the air. "I'm on fire today!"

Thor shakes his head as he backs up down the court. "Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every once in a while, Barton," he taunts.

Steve had been under the basket in case it didn’t drop in and caught the ball; he now stands and dribbles a bit, catching his breath before they start up again. It’s a hot day, and he’s a little gassed from keeping up with Bucky. 

“Come on, Rogers,” Thor calls out from the edge of the court. “You gonna pass me that ball, or marry it?”

Once again, Clint gets off a wisecrack. “You know Steve’s not the marrying kind,” he jokes as he walks down to the other end of the court.

Steve looks up sharply. That’s always been true for him, so the comment shouldn’t bother him in the least. Yet, hearing it come out of Clint’s mouth now makes him feel weird and uncomfortable. But why should it? It’s not like he suddenly wants to get _married._ He’s never even had a long-term relationship! But Bucky…maybe a lengthy relationship with Bucky didn’t sound so bad… 

Shit! Really? One guy could make him re-think years of a tried and true dating philosophy? _Yes, yes it could. If Bucky said he wanted you to be his, you'd be there in a heartbeat._

All of this runs through Steve’s head as he stands there, dribbling the ball slowly.

“Helllloooo, Earth to Steve?” Thor calls out again.

“Houston, we have a problem,” quips Peter.

“Maybe he had a stroke,” Clint razzes. 

Steve looks around. Everyone but him is already at the other end of the court. He passes the ball down to Thor and starts walking in that direction. Bucky is focused on him with a curious expression on his face, and Steve can only imagine what his own face looked like when he was standing there daydreaming. 

Clint passes Bucky on his way to guard Thor, and this time it’s the big man who gives him a shot to the back of the head. _Wap!_

“WHAT?” Clint hollers, and it makes Steve and Peter both laugh. 

Thor just smiles devilishly at Steve and then at Bucky, who missed the hit again and had turned away from Steve to look behind him at Thor and Clint. 

“Let’s play,” states Thor, and quickly tosses the ball in to Bucky. 

Steve, caught sleeping, wasn’t in position to guard, so Bucky takes off, streaking down the court and leaving him in the proverbial dust. He makes an easy lay-up and snickers as Steve finally catches up to him.

“Shit!” Steve says eloquently, bending and resting his hands on his knees. “Maybe I do need a break.” 

“Come on, old man!” Peter yells, hopping up to his feet. “I’ll relieve you.” 

“Yeah? Relieve this.” Steve gives Peter the finger, but does exit the court and take his turn sitting out on the grass. The good thing is that it provides the perfect opportunity to watch Bucky play. 

And oh, is that nice. Those legs, encased in shorts that get clingy around his thighs when he runs. That chest, barely contained inside his t-shirt, heaving with exertion. His hands, wrapped around the basketball, cradling it so skillfully. It’s like freaking Christmas. He just needs a big red bow. 

At the end of the game, Steve remembers his pledge to Maria to go over today. “Hey Thor! You remember my friend Maria from work?” 

Thor nods cheerfully. “The one with the peanut brittle.” 

Steve smiles. Maria makes peanut brittle every Christmas and gives it out to friends. Thor just happens to adore peanut brittle, and hounds Steve every year for part of his share. “Yes, the one with the peanut brittle. She needs help moving some furniture today. Any availability?”

Shaking his head sadly, Thor turns him down. “Sorry, Steve, no can do. Peter and I are heading out for the weekend, remember?”

 _Oh yeah._ He does remember, now that Thor mentions it. They’re going out to voluntarily torture themselves by falling slowly off the side of some big rock. Peter called it _rappelling._ Steve called it _awful_. “I forgot!” he admits, then turns to Bucky, where he sits on the grass downing some water. “Aren’t you going?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “Already had plans tonight.” He sets his water bottle down next to Zeus and pets him. “But I can help you and your friend Maria if you like.” 

Steve perks up, for more than one reason. “Really? That’d be great.” He glances at Clint. “I don’t even have to ask you if you’re going.”

“You know I’m not that stupid.” Clint has similar feelings about rock-climbing activity as Steve does.

“Losers!” Peter uses his index finger and thumb to make an ‘L’ on his forehead. 

Steve rolls his eyes, turns back to Bucky and reflects on his luck. More time with the object of his desire. Could this day get any better?


	5. Hey Steve-O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve bottoms for Bucky...while carrying furniture up a flight of stairs. Not exactly what he had in mind, but the favor does provide some benefits. As does the reappearance of Darcy, office manager and web-style selector extraordinaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh so close. The smut is so close now. And I'm just going to call it, there is no way I'll be done with these two at ten chapters. I've added a couple on to the tally. We'll see how it goes.

Chapter Five

Steve and Bucky decide to shower (separately, such a bitter pill for Steve to swallow) and then meet up to head to Maria’s place after basketball is over, mostly because they’re both sweaty and gross and don’t want to subject any human being to that. Steve offers to drive, of course, since Bucky is doing him a favor; they are sitting at a traffic light when Bucky poses a not altogether unexpected question.

“Tell me something, Steve. Clint said you’re not the marrying kind. Does that mean you don’t believe in marriage?”

Though Steve expected he might get a question or two on the subject, after spacing out during the game the way he did, that doesn’t mean he actually came up with sufficient responses already. He glances at his companion as he thinks over what to say. Bucky has on shorts and a soft grey t-shirt, just basic comfortable clothes since Steve told him they’d be moving something heavy. Nothing special, but his hair is down and still slightly damp, and smells fantastic. He wanted to plunge his nose right into the back of Bucky’s neck and get a good whiff when he was met at his door. 

Steve licks his lips. “Uh…not exactly. I’ve always thought marriage is great, for other people. I just never considered it much for myself.” Or at _all_. Steve has nothing against marriage for those around him. In fact, he expects Sam and Natasha will get hitched someday, and he’d be thrilled for them if that happened. He’s just never wanted romantic entanglements for himself. 

Bucky nods a little but doesn’t let him off the hook yet. “What’s the longest relationship you’ve had with someone?” He looks at Steve, dropping his chin. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind. I think about two months.” He’s not going to hide anything, but realizes how that sounds. Two months is a high estimate. And it doesn’t sound like someone who’s looking to get married someday. It sounds like someone who is only looking for a good time. He lifts his hands from the steering wheel for a split second. “Long-term relationships were never my forte,” he confesses. 

Bucky nods and takes that in silently for a moment. “It’s not that I’m judging you or anything. Commitment isn’t for everyone. There’s nothing wrong with that if you’re honest about it.” 

Steve opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and his jaw snaps shut again. _I can commit,_ he almost says, but doesn’t. How can he argue with his entire dating history? It’s only now he’s been having these foreign thoughts about being with one person, and one person only.

Bucky opens up a bit more. “You’re probably the smart one, avoiding any serious relationships. I sure don’t want another one.”

Steve turns in surprise and almost veers into the next lane. “What?” He’s not sure he heard that right. Did Bucky really just say that? So it’s not that he’s taking a break from dating. It’s not that he just hasn’t found anyone new. He doesn’t _want_ to find anyone new. His gut starts churning like crazy. Not only can he feel it, he can almost hear it. This man, sitting next to him, has managed to turn everything inside him upside down and inside out. 

Bucky rubs his palms up and down on his fabric of his shorts. Is this conversation making him as nervous as it’s making Steve? Bucky goes on. “After all I went through, the idea of getting myself into the same situation again is not appealing. You’ve avoided all of that by only pursuing casual relationships.” 

Steve is speechless. It bothers him that whatever happened to Bucky, it’s made him give up on the idea of a happily ever after with someone. It bothers him that Bucky thinks he himself isn’t interested in a happily ever after with someone, but what can he say? _I’ve never wanted a long-term relationship till I met you._ The exact thing Bucky just said he _doesn’t_ want. His knuckles are turning white, he’s clutching the steering wheel so hard. 

There is a pounding sound in his ears as he just concentrates on driving the car for a minute. Bucky’s comments have put things into a much sharper focus for him internally. He knows now he wants a relationship with Bucky. Not just a quick roll in the hay, catch you later kind of relationship. Bucky isn’t only some sexy body to be explored, enjoyed, and then cast aside. Bucky is a treasure he’s just discovered. He makes Steve’s heart pound and his breath catch, just by being in the same room with him. He’s funny and sweet and _so fucking nice_ , it’s like being with a sunbeam. And who doesn’t want to be with a sunbeam?

Fuck. Steve does. He tries another angle. “But, if you find that special someone, isn’t the risk worth it?” 

Bucky sighs again and says in a quiet voice, “I thought I had already.” Then he falls silent, staring out his window. 

Steve’s heart breaks a little. Not for himself, for Bucky. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

The dark head turns toward him again and Bucky offers a weak smile. “Thanks. That was depressing. Let’s talk about something lighter.” 

“Like…moving heavy furniture?” Steve says with a tentative smile of his own. “We’re here.”

Steve pulls into a short driveway and parks. Maria lives in a small, brick Tudor style home with roses growing in the front flower beds. The armoire in question is currently sitting on her covered porch. It looks enormous. And solid. Steve and Bucky stand in front of it, hands on hips. 

“That fucker looks heavy,” Bucky observes.

Steve nods. “I’m gonna owe you big for this, aren’t I.”

Bucky smiles next to him. “Thor did mention peanut brittle.”

Steve laughs and reaches forward to ring the doorbell. Maria meets them at the door, is introduced to Bucky, and is all smiles and thank yous to the both of them. She shows them the room upstairs she wants the piece to go to, then stands back and tries to keep out of their way. In order to fit it through her front door entranceway, they must turn it on its side and carry it through. Then it’s just a simple matter of wrestling it up a full flight of stairs. 

Steve takes bottom position. Bottom of the armoire, that is. Bucky is ahead of him, walking backwards up the stairs at the top end of the armoire. It’s even heavier than it looks, and Steve is grunting with effort two steps up. But he hears some wheezy noises coming out of Bucky too, so he doesn’t feel like a complete wimp. Halfway up they take a break to rest and reposition their hands, gingerly tipping the armoire back up and setting it down precariously on one carpeted step.

“You doing okay?” Steve asks as he flexes his cramped fingers. Those sharp corners are really digging in.

“Great,” Bucky responds. “Just thinking about how good that peanut brittle’s gonna taste.”

Steve peeks around the side of the gigantic wardrobe and sees Bucky grinning at him from above. They are both bear hugging the massive oak piece, holding it in place so it doesn’t tip or slide down. 

“You ready?” Bucky asks, and Steve nods. “As I’ll ever be.” 

They make it up the full flight without incident. There is a tricky turn at the top of the stairs, but once they get past that point, it’s smooth sailing. The armoire gets set gently down in the place Maria indicates. Steve leans back against the wide front doors to rest, and closes his eyes. He feels Bucky join him, directly next to him and almost, but not quite, touching shoulders. Maria thanks them profusely and snaps a picture on her phone to post. 

“That was a workout,” Bucky breathes. 

“I’ll say,” Steve agrees. He opens his eyes and nudges Bucky in the ribs with his elbow. “You wanna go grab a beer somewhere?”

“Sure, I’ve got time.” 

Steve looks at Maria next. She’s typing furiously on her phone. “How about you, Maria?”

The dark-haired woman looks up quickly. “What? Oh, no, I can’t. You two go without me, though.” She pushes a couple of buttons on her phone, slides it into her back pocket and then smiles. “I baked some cookies for you both to take home, too.”

“Cookies!” Bucky sounds pretty excited about the cookies. Maybe Steve can keep _some_ of his peanut brittle next Christmas. 

Laden down with a dozen each of chocolate chip and Snickerdoodle cookies, the two men take their leave and head to a nearby sports pub. They are parked in the shade, so they have only a short discussion on the prudence of leaving their cookies in the car without the chocolate melting all over, and decide that their goodies will be safe. They sit at the long bar inside and both carefully avoid the subject of dating, as if that sensitive topic needs a respite for now. 

Steve finds it easy to fill the time talking about other things, though. Bucky asks him a bunch of questions about his work this time, like how long he’s known Maria, been at his job, and so on. The conversation shifts more to his childhood when Bucky asks how Steve got interested in web design, and Steve tells him how he was sick a lot as a kid and couldn’t play sports. Instead he played on computers, and gravitated towards that field when settling on a career. 

“I’d never guess you were sick a lot when you were young,” Bucky tells him. “You probably hear that every time, right?” 

Steve laughs and nods. “Pretty much. I’m lucky I grew out of the asthma and most of my allergies. Now it’s just cat hair.”

Bucky grins. “Dogs are better, anyway. Cats are evil.” He sets down his empty bottle and glances at his watch. 

“We’d better go,” Steve announces, realizing they’ve been sitting there for over an hour.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “We’re still on for tomorrow though, right?”

 _Golf_. They slide off their bar stools and Steve nods. “We are. I have much to teach, young grasshopper.”

\--

“He doesn’t want any serious relationships.” 

“How do you know that?” Sam stops mid-flip, with a burger balanced on his spatula, and looks at Steve. 

He and Natasha sit out on his balcony on lounge chairs with poufy, red cushions, directly behind Sam. The balcony is sort of narrow but long, extending almost the width of his apartment. There is a black, iron wrought railing around the outside edges of the slatted wood floor. The sun has traveled far enough across the sky that the heat out there is bearable, and there is a nice breeze wafting across their faces. It also brings the enticing smell of juicy, grilled meat into their noses.

“He told me so,” Steve declares in a disappointed voice. 

“So what?” Natasha says, and tosses a potato chip into her red-lipped mouth.

Reaching across, Steve grabs the bag away from her. “I know it’s hard to grasp, Nat, but I actually _want_ a relationship this time.” He shoves some chips in and crunches loudly. 

Natasha and Sam both chuckle. “That’s not what I mean!” she explains. “I mean, why would you let that stop you?”

Sam has finished flipping burgers. He closes the lid of the grill and turns to face them. “I don’t know, Nat, because consent kind of seems like an important thing?”

Steve giggles a little at his sarcastic tone, but looks at Natasha and waits for her response. She’s usually pretty smart about these kinds of problems. 

Natasha rolls her eyes at the sky. “You are so obtuse sometimes, babe.”

“Obtuse! I don’t have to stand for that!” Sam pretends to get huffy and dramatically sits down on the other lounge chair. 

Natasha turns to Steve directly. “I’m not saying you should ignore what he wants. I’m saying he’s gun-shy, but that doesn’t mean you can’t change his mind in time.”

“You think?”

“Yes. You just need to _court_ him.”

“Court? I need to court him?” Steve’s eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline. 

Sam leans over and grabs a handful of chips. “We already play basketball every weekend,” he says in jest.

Natasha gives him a piercing stare, then turns back to Steve. “Yes, court him. Sometimes the heart doesn’t really _know_ what it wants.” Her eyes are soft. 

Steve’s eyes are unconvinced. “Seemed like he was pretty sure.” He gets a handful of chips and mashes them into his mouth.

Natasha smiles. “Just don’t give up yet.”

“Okay,” Steve mumbles around his mouthful of chips. 

Natasha leans in towards him. “What did you say, Stevie?” 

“I said okay, already!” he says in exasperation. Natasha can be obnoxiously persistent when she thinks she’s right. 

She pats his knee and steals the chip bag back. “There’s a good boy!” 

“Yeah, Stevie,” the voice floats up from the patio directly below. “You be a good boy now!”

“Shut up, Clint!” Steve yells over the side, laughing. 

Sam just sits back and grins. Steve knows from long experience that gap-toothed smile means Sam thinks he’s right, too. His words echo inside Steve’s head. _Someday you’ll meet your match._

“You shut up too, Sam.”

The grin widens.

\--

Golf the next day is marvelous. Steve decided, out of lack of any better idea, to take Natasha’s advice to heart. So Bucky isn’t interested right now. At least he didn’t say he thinks Steve is a repulsive heathen. He can pursue friendship with him without feeling weird. His plan is to just…talk to him. Golf with him. Try not to stare with endless longing. Steve thinks he does a pretty good job on that last point. I mean, that’s a tall order, especially when Bucky looks especially yummy today. His hair is down. His shirt hugs his pecs like a beer koozie hugs a bottle. And when he swings the club and follows through, his hips roll in the most delectable way. 

But Steve’s not staring. It’s not staring if you’re teaching. Actually Bucky has retained most of what Steve taught him last week, so it’s just a matter of practice today. They’ve gone through most of their buckets already, and Bucky has gotten off some nice drives. Maybe one more week practicing his drives and getting into the sand trap to learn how to get back out of it, and then Steve thinks he may be ready to get out on a real course. Now that’s progress!

\--

On Monday night, Steve strolls down the courtyard over to Clint’s apartment, where he and Thor are sitting at his patio set. It’s a cute little glass four top, with a red and blue striped umbrella for shade. He even has some potted tropical plants spaced around the perimeter, for ambience. In the winter, Clint takes them inside to help with his “oxygenation level”, as he puts it. Steve, who has no green thumb at all, has already received “the talk” from his engineering friend about the necessity of houseplants, and periodic reminders that NASA recommends one potted plant per hundred square feet of space. 

“You’ll thank me for the improved air quality,” Clint admonishes him regularly. 

“Hey guys,” Steve says now in greeting. “Thor, how was the trip?”

Thor smiles broadly. “Amazing!” he crows. “I wish you were all there, and not such big chickens.”

“But we’re healthy chickens, with all four limbs and internal organs intact,” Steve cracks. 

Clint snorts. “Although I agree with that sentiment, I feel obliged to point out that chickens don’t have four limbs.”

Pulling out a chair and sitting down with them, Steve disagrees. “Yes they do. Two legs and two wings. That’s four.” 

“Wings are not the same thing as limbs, Rogers,” Clint argues.

“Yes they are,” Steve insists.

“Nuh uhhh.” Clint shakes his head. “Thor, tell him.”

Thor’s brow is wrinkled up like a Shar-Pei. “I have no opinion on this matter.” He turns to Steve. “So how’s it going with Bucky? You two declare undying love for each other while moving a sofa?”

“Armoire,” Steve corrects. “And nothing’s going on.”

“What’s the hold-up?”

Clint answers for him. “Bucky doesn’t want to get involved with anyone.”

Thor has a knowing look on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

Steve shrugs. “That’s what he said. I just feel like he wants things to go slow, if he wants things to go anywhere at all.” 

Clint cuts in, looking at Steve in surprise. “Wait, were you serious when you said you wanted a relationship with him?” 

Steve opens his mouth, but it is Thor who answers him. “It’s obvious, Clint. Use your eyes. That’s what God gave them to you for.”

Clint holds his hands up in front of himself and waves them around like he’s blind. “God gave me eyes so I could get from point A to point B without walking off the side of a cliff, not so I could examine the interpersonal relationship of two men.” 

Thor laughs. Steve groans. “Believe me, Clint, we don’t want you examining our interpersonal relationship, either.”

“See?” Clint motions to Steve, as if to prove his point to Thor. “I still feel like I must have stepped into another dimension. Steve Rogers wants to date someone, for real?” He runs a hand over his short, light brown hair. “Am I still devastatingly handsome in this dimension?

Thor and Steve both snicker. “Well, you weren’t to start with, so I don’t know why you think the Cosmos would give that gift to you,” Thor razzes. 

Clint tries to flick his arm, but the big man pulls away at the last second. Clint mock glares at him. “I’m drinking all your beer later.” 

“So anyway,” Steve tries to steer the conversation into the direction he wants it to go, because Thor’s face invited questions. “Did Bucky…ask you about me at all?” He’s trying to be cool on the outside while nervously optimistic inside. 

Thor smiles indulgently at him. “Only about as much as you asked me about him.”

A little smile finds its way to Steve’s lips. That would be a _lot_. But what did it mean? Bucky is kind of an enigma. Is he interested? Not interested? On the fence? 

Thor leans back and clasps his hands behind his head. “So I told him you were an asshole and he should stay away from you.” 

\--

It’s the middle of the work week, which so far has been pretty boring for Steve. That is, until he finds a new voicemail message on his cell phone. He punches it up and listens to it. 

“Hey Steve-O, it’s Darcy Lewis. We met the other day when you came in with Thor? Anyway, Bucky told me he wimped out on picking a style for the website and wants me to see what you’ve got. So whenever you are ready, just give me a call and we’ll set something up. Thanks!”

Steve has to smile. Steve-O? Darcy certainly has an effervescent personality. He gives her a call back and sets up a meeting at Bucky’s office on Friday. 

On Friday he goes in to his office early so that he can leave early too, and make his meeting with Darcy. When he walks in the door, she is behind the desk waiting for him. Her hair looks even bigger and curlier today, and the bling she is wearing, between her necklaces, rings and hoop earrings is enough to make Steve squint. 

“Steve-O!” she sings in a chirpy voice. “It _is_ good to see you again.”

Steve smiles at her enthusiasm. “It’s really good to see you, Darcy. Having a good Friday?”

She blows air out noisily from her mouth. “This humidity is murder. I think my hair is going to take over the office!”

“What are you talking about? You look great,” Steve tells her, with all sincerity, as he strides in and sets his laptop down on the counter in front of her. 

She eyes him, trying to decide if he’s being serious, and apparently decides he is. “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling.” She steps out from behind her desk with a key in hand. “Let me lock up and then we can go into the conference room to work.” Walking to the door, she locks it and flips the “open” sign around to the “closed” side. 

“Bucky isn’t here?” Steve inquires.

“Hell no,” Darcy drawls, “We don’t need him. He’s still out at a work site.” 

She leads the way back down the short hall and steps into a small conference room. “He’s really not good with computer stuff, so he told me to pick what I like.” She buffs her nails on her shirt and blows on them in a joking manner. “Fortunately, I have excellent taste.” 

There is an oblong conference table with a dozen cushy chairs pulled up around it that they both take seats at. On the walls are black and white photos blown up and framed, obviously of homes that Bucky has done. Steve appreciates the simplicity of it. He opens up his laptop to boot it up as he looks around. 

“He must trust you implicitly. Have you two been working together for a long time?”

She smiles and rests her chin in her hand. “I’ve _known_ Bucky for a lot longer than I’ve _worked_ for him. But I’ve been here since he started his company.”

Steve taps at his keyboard to bring up the right file. “So you two are pretty close, then, huh?”

“You could say that,” Darcy says, and Steve can hear the affection in her voice. 

He’s got the basic layout up to show her, so they get down to business for a while. Darcy, he finds, is very decisive. She clearly knows what she wants, which makes his job pretty easy. He likes not only the speed with which she makes her selections but the actual choices themselves. He’s confident that the site is going to look sharp when it’s completed.

They are taking a little break, waiting for another program to load, when Darcy asks casually, “So Steve, Bucky tells me you’re teaching him to golf. How’s he doing?”

“Really well, actually. He’s kind of a natural.” 

Darcy nods. “I’m not surprised. He’s a quick learner.”

“Yeah, he’s a good student. Easy to teach,” Steve declares, and rubs his neck absentmindedly. 

“He’s pretty athletic, too,” Darcy offers. 

“Yeah. Yeah…” Steve agrees, and thinks about Bucky running up and down the basketball court. Bucky swinging his club. All those muscles. Those are pleasant images, and bring a little smile to his face. 

Darcy clears her throat, and Steve refocuses his eyes and looks at her. Apparently he’d been staring into space. Probably with a sappy look on his face, too. Or maybe a _hungry_ look. And in that instant, he knows he’s been had. He knows this an instant before Darcy unceremoniously pushes the lid of his laptop shut and shoves it across the table away from them both. 

“OK, enough small talk,” she announces authoritatively, hops up out of her chair, and sits on the table facing him. She folds her hands in her lap. “Here’s the deal, Steve-O. I told you Bucky and I were close?” She shakes her head. “We’re not just close. He’s like my brother, and I don’t want to see him get hurt. You feel me?”

Steve is so surprised, he was struck dumb through her initial speech, but now he manages to get out some timid words. “I…I don’t want to hurt him.”

She stares into his eyes. Steve stares back. Finally she blinks and her voice softens. “You seem like a really nice guy, so I want to believe you.”

“Then believe me.”

She bites at her lip. “It’s just, he’s been hurt before, and I am not going to let that happen again.”

Steve swallows the lump in his throat. “Darcy, we’re not even dating. We’re just friends.” 

She rests one foot on the chair she was sitting on a moment ago. Her legs, clad in black cigarette pants, get crossed at the knee. “And is that all you want?”

Steve falls silent. _What’s the right answer here?_ He’s not sure if he should admit his feelings for Bucky. And protective friend or not, it’s really none of Darcy’s damn business, anyway. Thor had said she would be a good ally to have, but this is feeling pretty adversarial to him. So he’s not baring his soul to a potential enemy. 

He tries to turn the tables. “Is that all _he_ wants?” He’s not really expecting Darcy to answer that. He just wants to deflect a little of the third degree heat away from himself. 

She swings one foot, encased in what look like four inch pumps, in a lazy circle. “You tell me. He only talks about you all the time.” 

He wasn’t expecting that. For one thing, the enemy wouldn’t volunteer information like that. For another thing, Bucky talks about him? All the time? His mouth falls open and he rocks back in his chair. “He does?” He blurts it out, and her eyes narrow. He knows his voice probably betrayed him, that he couldn’t stop the longing from seeping into it. He really can’t believe they’re having this conversation at all. Maybe he’s imagining this whole thing. 

She’s got her eagle eyes trained on him, but then seems to melt. “So you do want more.” It’s a statement, not a question now. She sighs and jiggles her foot again. “Well, whatever shape that ‘more’ takes, I won’t butt in.” 

This is _not_ butting in?

She flips her long hair over one shoulder. “I know this is really none of my business…”

Steve lets out a dry laugh. “No, it’s not,” he agrees and pushes his chair back for some space. He can give a little in return. “But can we come to some sort of truce here? I promise you, I don’t want to hurt him. I mean that.” He looks her in the eye to show her he’s serious. 

“Okay,” she backs down and her voice takes on an apologetic tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off like the Gestapo.” She hops down off the table, turns and pulls Steve’s laptop back to its original position. “Well, I really did.” She turns back to him and smiles, then sits down in her seat. “I just wanted to see what your reaction would be.”

“My reaction!” Steve echoes. “I half expected you to pull out some brass knuckles.”

Darcy giggles and opens the screen on his laptop again, then pauses and studies him further. “No brass knuckles. I just…Bucky is special. He looks out for me, and I look out for him. So truce.”

She reaches out to shake his hand. Steve takes it and shakes it gallantly. She leans in close, still holding his hand in hers. “I’ll trust you when you say you won’t hurt him.” Her voice drops low but is sugar sweet. “But if I’m wrong…I will hunt you down and I will kill you.”

Steve swallows again. Some truce.


	6. Gonna Give You Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it comes. The moment we've all been waiting for...we meet Bucky's sister. Kidding. Bucky finally gets around to telling Steve a little of what's been on his mind, and unveils what he sees as the perfect answer to his problem with relationships. Steve...sees it as an offer he can't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for elves_n_angels and lecroixss, who ~~politely requested~~ demanded smut. Who am I to deny them? Steve and Bucky have complete control over me.

Chapter Six

Steve doesn’t see Bucky Friday night, but he does text him to let him know he and Darcy met and got the website information sorted out, and also approximately how long he needs before they’ll be able to meet again and go over his progress. He doesn’t mention their _other_ conversation. But he’s curious and a little nervous to see and talk to him again. He’s not sure if he can still stay as cool and calm as he wants to, knowing what he does now. Also there’s that whole Darcy-murder-threat, but he’s not really taking that seriously. Well, only a _teeny bit_ seriously.

Unfortunately, he has to wait longer than he thought he would. It rains in the morning again, so no basketball Saturday. _Damn weather._ Steve goes for an extra long run at the park in the afternoon when the drizzling has stopped, but doesn’t see Bucky and Zeus. Just an ugly grey sky and dripping leaves on trees. Nor does he see him in the laundry room of their complex. Nor at the grocery store. The whole day is pretty much a bust. 

That evening, he and Sam take in a movie they’ve been wanting to see. Natasha passes; war movies are a hard no for her. On the car ride there, Steve hears all about the latest gossip at the hospital. He swears a made-for-TV movie could be done about the doctors and nurses there, as much drama as there is on a regular basis. Personally Sam tries to stay out of it as much as possible, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t mind _hearing_ about it from co-workers, and subsequently amusing Steve with the stories. 

The theater they drive to is a big multiplex, with about a dozen screens and several movies showing simultaneously. It’s pretty new and Steve generally likes it, because some of the theaters have stadium seating with tall-backed chairs that he can actually rest his head on, and not feel like the seats were made for children. Of course, the décor is hideous, with maroon paint and a carpet of overlapping circular patterns, in various colors which make it look like someone threw up, but he can deal with that. 

Really the only thing he doesn’t like is that there is a so-called “café” attached, where alcohol is sold to waiting movie-goers. You can’t carry your beer into the theater with you, but you can walk around the lobby with it. The beer is overpriced and overrated, of course, so Steve never bothers to get any. Why would you want to ruin your movie experience by getting plastered first anyway? They bypass the café and get in line for popcorn. That’s the real movie experience. A giant, artery-clogging bucket of buttered popcorn. While they are waiting, he has the opportunity to tell Sam about Thor’s and Darcy’s enlightening comments on Bucky. Sam wears a thoughtful expression similar to Thor’s. 

“So, he doesn’t want to get involved with you, but he’s been asking about you.” His face brightens. “Maybe he’s an axe murderer, and he’s scoping you out as his next victim.”

Steve shoots daggers at him with his eyes. “That is not funny.”

Sam chortles. “Yes it is. That’s funny. Have you been inside his apartment? Maybe you should check and make sure it’s not filled with…axes (he draws his eyebrows together in a sinister way)…and rope and duct tape, and giant pictures of you picking out rutabaga at the grocery store, or shoving letters into the mailbox on the corner.”

Steve shakes his head. “You need professional help, man.”

They step up to the counter and order popcorn and soft drinks. As they step out of line with their purchases and start down the hall toward their theater, Steve hears a familiar voice call out behind them. 

“Hey Steve, Sam!”

Both men turn to see Bucky and a female companion behind them. The woman looks to be in her mid-twenties, with dark hair and eyes. They stop and greet him, moving to the side of the hallway so as not to block traffic, and are introduced to Becca, Bucky’s sister. 

“Becca, this is Steve, and this is Sam,” Bucky points at each of them in turn. 

She holds out her hand to Steve first, since he is closest to her. “Steve…the one who lives two doors down, right?”

Steve nods as he shakes her hand. “That’s right,” he confirms. He’s probably grinning like an idiot, but he honestly doesn’t care. Bucky talked about him with _his sister._ He sneaks a peek at Bucky, who is looking right back at him, and feels himself start to blush. Damn hormones.

Sam holds out his hand next. “Sam Wilson. Nice to meet Bucky’s sister.”

She shakes his hand and tilts her head to one side. “Sam… do you live in the same building as well?”

Steve coughs to cover up the laugh that started to come out. Sam just smiles toothily. 

“Sam is the radiologist,” Bucky reminds her, and she smiles back. 

“Oh, right! It’s good to meet you both!” she says merrily. “Bucky really likes his new place.”

“What movie are you seeing?” Bucky inquires, and Steve points to the screen just next door, with the sign above in bold letters. 

“Ohhhhh,” Bucky says, sounding a tiny bit dejected. “I want to see that.”

Becca smiles brightly at him. “No.”

Bucky’s face falls, and Steve laughs at how cute he looks. Apparently his sister doesn’t like war movies, either. They separate then to head into their respective screens, and Steve realizes he didn’t even feel self-conscious or nervous about talking to Bucky, because Bucky’s just not that kind of person. He could put Steve at ease no matter what, it seems. And make him go red as a fire engine too, apparently.

On the way in to find seats, Sam nudges him. “See?” he says, “He’s definitely singled you out as his prime victim. I hardly rated a mention to the family member.”

Steve snorts and ignores that. They sit about halfway up and Steve settles back in his nice, tall seat with a happy sigh. The movie, while clocking in on the long side at over two and a half hours, turns out to be excellent and well worth the ticket price. They are walking back out and through the lobby when a college-aged young man accidentally runs into Steve, heading in the other direction. He’s got a beer in his hand, in an open cup, and most of it sloshes out and soaks Steve’s shirt. 

“Aaarrgghh!” he groans, holding his arms out away from the wetness. Sam snorts in laughter, the bastard. 

The young man is very apologetic; Steve tells him not to worry about it and sends him on his way. He and Sam were on their way home already, so it’s not like they had to change their plans. But the beer was cold, and sticky wet, and doesn’t feel good. His shirt is cotton, which means it now shrinks up against his skin. And now he smells like cheap beer. 

Sam helps him look on the bright side. “You’re lucky that didn’t spill all over your ass, or I’d make you ride home in my trunk.”

-

Shortly after they start on their way, Steve realizes there is a problem. Namely, that Sam drank a giant Coke, didn’t use the bathroom at the theater and now has his legs crossed so he doesn’t piss himself. Steve is really glad their apartment building is close by, because Sam is breaking land speed records to get there.

“Why didn’t you go before we left?”

“I didn’t have to go then!” Sam whines, and does a rolling stop through a deserted corner stop sign. 

Briefly Steve wonders what would happen if Sam got pulled over for a traffic violation, with him smelling like a brewery. 

Fortunately though, they make it home without any trouble, and are on their way into their building when they see Bucky and Zeus coming down the stairs on the way out, having just beaten them home.

“Steve!” Bucky calls out to him. Steve stops; Sam just waves and races past them both. 

“Hi, see ya, gotta go!” he yells, and pounds up the staircase. 

Steve laughs both at Sam and at Bucky’s face. “Is he okay?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, too much soda. He’ll be fine in 30 seconds.”

Bucky sniffs loudly and wrinkles up his nose. “You two stop at a bar on the way home?”

Steve groans again. “No, I got beer spilled on me while we were there.”

Bucky just seems to have noticed that Steve’s shirt is soaked in the front, and clinging to his chest. His eyes move up and down slowly, and the fleeting but telling look on his face makes Steve’s nipples harden. He pulls his shirt out away from his skin slightly. Bucky’s face is full of craving, full of wickedness. Steve knows that look too well to mistake it. His nipples are now pebbled up and standing at attention because of it. 

He’s lucky Bucky’s eyes have moved on, because if his gaze had lingered another second on his midsection, Steve would’ve popped a boner, too, and had something _else_ standing at attention that would have been harder to hide. It’s the first time he’s ever felt like Bucky was looking at him with dirty thoughts, and oh _God_ is it a turn-on. He’d drop to the tile and go for it right now if Bucky said he wanted to.

His companion’s eyes dropped down to Zeus, on his leash and sitting at his side patiently, and now work their way back up to Steve. The previous look has been replaced with one of disappointment. “Oh. I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute.”

Steve is not about to let a little beer stand in the way of conversation with Bucky. “Well sure, just give me about ten minutes to shower off.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah, okay. Zeus has to go out anyway. Then I’ll come down?”

Steve nods and starts to follow Sam’s path. “Great, I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah. In a bit. Let’s go, Zeus.” Zeus wiggles and dances in a circle, and then he and his owner walk off in the other direction. 

It takes approximately two seconds for Steve to start freaking out. Yes, he always wants to talk to Bucky. That’s a no brainer. But what does Bucky want to talk to him about? Did Darcy say something to him? Or is it something completely unrelated? Is it about that look? Has he changed his mind about dating? Granted, it would be a huge leap, considering their other conversation was less than a week ago, but that look Bucky gave him was something else. _Entirely_ something else. He can’t get it out of his head. 

He takes a more-than-slightly cool shower and soaps up completely, trying to stave off the horniness and the panic with something routine and methodical. He brushes his teeth. Twice. He then changes into gym shorts and a t-shirt to be as comfortable as possible, and wills himself to just _relax_. 

Should he put on some music? _No._ The TV? Yeah, that’s probably what he would have done if he was alone, as it’s too early to go to bed yet. He flips it on and searches channels. There’s another pre-season football game still on, perfect. That way if he’s stuck and tongue-tied, he can bring up football. They’ll be drafting next weekend, so there’s another potential topic to fall back on. _Breathe, Rogers._

In reality it’s probably only ten to fifteen minutes, but it seems to Steve like he waits _forever_ for Bucky to knock on his door. He’s out of his seat like a shot to let him in. It’s kind of a let-down then, after all that anticipatory wigging out, when he opens the door and Bucky looks at him…the same way he usually does. Friendly, but not lust-filled. _Bucky. What are you doing to me._

His hair is back in that messy bun that Steve likes so much, and _oh my God_ , did he smell this good out in the hallway? Maybe the beer smell was covering up everything else. 

“You smell better,” Bucky jokes as he passes Steve on his way in. Maybe that alcohol smell was stronger than he thought.

“What, you don’t like the smell of dive bar?” Steve banters back, and laughs when Bucky wrinkles up his nose adorably. “Do you want to sit down?” he asks, and motions to the couch.

“Sure,” Bucky says evenly, and slides down onto one end. 

Steve opts to sit next to him. Close, but not too close. 

“How was your movie?” Bucky asks immediately.

“It was great. How was yours?” Apparently they’re going to do the small talk thing first. 

“Rom-commy,” Bucky answers back in a flat voice. He shrugs. “But Becca liked it, so there’s that.”

Steve nods, and pauses to see if Bucky wants to bring up whatever is on his mind. Suddenly the dark-haired man looks nervous, casting his eyes around the room instead of looking at Steve directly, like he normally would do. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks. This behavior is so un-Bucky like, he’s worried now that something is seriously _wrong._

“Fine,” Bucky says quickly, then smiles a little. “Guess I’m just nervous to talk to you about what I wanted to talk to you about.” His smile falters and he looks at Steve, as if he wants to magically transmit his thoughts directly into Steve’s brain. 

Steve’s brain doesn’t have a clue what Bucky’s thoughts are, but it knows that when nerves are involved, it’s better for him to be doing something rather than just sitting. 

“Want to go in the kitchen and get a bite to eat?” he suggests. 

Bucky looks uncertain, but tepidly agrees. “Uhh….sure.” 

They rise and walk towards the kitchen. Steve turns and tells him, “I like to snack when I’m nervous.” 

Looking more like himself, Bucky smiles back at him. “More nachos?”

“I think I’m out of nachos, but I do have pretzels.”

“Well frankly, pretzels are kind of a disappointment after those nachos,” Bucky teases, and rests his back against the counter as they enter the kitchen. 

Laughing, Steve opens up another cupboard and pulls out a bag of sourdough pretzels. The big ones with all the salt. He turns to face Bucky and pulls the plastic top of the bag open with a sharp crack. “I suppose this is below my usual standards,” he agrees. “I’m pretty dynamite in the kitchen, you know.” 

He means it to be self-deprecating, but Bucky doesn’t laugh. Instead he reaches out slowly, takes the bag out of Steve’s hands very deliberately and sets it on the counter next to him, without taking any pretzels out. His voice drops to a lower timbre than Steve has ever heard before. “I’ll bet you’re pretty dynamite in a lot of rooms.”

The innuendo is unmistakable. His eyes are on Steve’s, all that grey-blue amazingness, and Steve’s breath hitches. Something stirs deep inside him. Desire. Hot and primal. They stare at each other for a long second without speaking.

Steve stutters back a little with his response, but doesn’t break eye contact. “Is that… is that something you want to…explore? With me?” He adds that last bit on, in case Bucky is unsure of who the involved parties would be. 

Bucky takes a step closer. Steve can feel the body heat coming off of him, and the air between them feels charged with electricity.

“See, here’s the thing, Steve,” he says, still in that low, sexy voice. “I don’t want a heavy relationship, and I know you don’t either.” He takes another step closer and is now only inches away. He’s almost as tall as Steve, almost at eye level. “But physically, I’m very attracted to you. I tried not to be, but…it’s your fault, really.” He seems to get closer without even moving his feet. “You made me want you.”

Steve swallows hard, and it’s like a golf ball went down his throat. His lips part and his breathing has picked up like he’s running a race; his heart is thumping in his chest like a base drum. 

Bucky goes on, still holding Steve’s eyes captive with his own. “Would you ever consider a friends with benefits kind of a deal? With me?” He adds the last two words on, in case Steve had any question who would participate, and actually that’s pretty helpful, because after hearing the words _“I’m very attracted to you,”_ and _“you made me want you,”_ only about ten percent of Steve’s brain isn’t delirious and non-functional. 

“Benefits?” he repeats slowly. Bucky still wants to be just friends…but not just friends. Steve could have…Bucky? In all the ways he wants to? _No, not all the ways,_ a little part of the still-functioning brain says. 

Bucky seems to mistake his hesitation about the type of relationship he wants, with hesitation about the “benefits” portion of the deal. “Let’s just start off slow, and anytime you want me to stop, you say so,” he promises. “Like, right now I want to kiss you. And I want you to kiss me back.”

Steve’s eyes drop to Bucky’s mouth, and he breaks. Those plush, sinful looking lips, asking for a kiss? It’s too much. It’s too fucking much. He’s confident he can keep a lid on his feelings for Bucky and never let them show, if that’s what he wants. He’s less confident he can keep control of those feelings on the inside, but heartbreak be damned. The sting of disappointment right now is overshadowed by his thirst for Bucky anyway. Because he’s extra confident he is NOT going to turn down sex with him. Not in a million fucking years. 

He grabs the front of Bucky’s shirt, fingers curling into the material, and tugs at it to pull him in. Their lips touch, slowly, tentatively, just a light brush together, and fire shoots all the way to Steve’s toes. Again their eyes meet; they share a smoldering look and Bucky murmurs, “Is that a yes?”

Steve nods and whispers, “Yes.” He tightens his grip on Bucky’s shirt, wrinkling up the material and bunching it up in his fist. Their lips meet again and neither one waits long to deepen the kiss; their tongues both search out the other, sliding and curling together. It’s hot and electric and he never wants it to stop. He can hardly breathe, Bucky tastes and feels so good. One hand is still on his chest, clutching at his shirt, while the other finds his hip, just below that narrow waist. 

One of Bucky’s hands goes to the back of Steve’s neck, just _feeling_ him, caressing him. His fingertips ruffle up the short hair on the back of his head. His other hand explores Steve’s lower back, moving over one band of muscle and into the valley at his spine, traveling up and down his vertebrae as though he’s playing piano keys. 

They continue kissing for a long, time-suspending few minutes, during which time Steve’s cock hardens up like concrete. It’s all hot mouths pressed together and hot hands pressing into the strong muscles of each other’s bodies as they slowly, thoroughly touch each other. Steve licks into Bucky’s mouth deeply and runs both hands over his chest. His pecs are just as firm as they look. So is his ass. Steve knows this because his hands travel _everywhere_. 

Might as well try to fulfill as much of his fantasy as he can before Bucky changes his mind. Kissing him is magical. He’s sure it can’t last, but every time he fears Bucky might be pulling away from him, it’s just a repositioning of his hands or a shift of his head, and the kiss goes on. Deep and passionate and needy. He hears himself whimper into Bucky’s mouth, it’s so perfect.

Bucky is then the one to pull their bodies closer together. Bucky is the one who makes Steve think maybe some of his wishes will be granted tonight. His arms are wrapped around Steve like a straightjacket, drawing him in. When he does, their erections come into contact with each other and make them both moan into the other’s mouth. Bucky is so _hard_. As hard as Steve is. How could he never have known all this fire was lurking under the surface of his calm, cool exterior? 

They are still kissing madly when Bucky pushes Steve back against the counter and grinds up against him. As he moves, his shaft pushes against Steve’s, and he feels thick and huge. Holy shit, the friction is unimaginably delicious. Steve wants that cock. Bucky’s hands pull at his shirt, sneaking inside and sliding over his stomach and waist. His skin tingles wherever he is touched. Bucky kisses his way along Steve’s jawline until he reaches his ear. 

“Steve,” he groans, “I wanna suck you. Just a little.” He puts his hand where his cock just was and rubs up and down over Steve’s erection, over the thin material of his running shorts. His fingers curl easily around Steve’s length, squeezing and pulling at it. Bucky’s hand working him over is glorious, but Steve has to admit the idea of Bucky’s lips sucking down his length sounds equally fabulous. Right now his lips are nibbling at the lobe of his ear, and even that makes Steve feel like an orgasm is imminent. 

“Yes,” he whispers again, and captures Bucky’s mouth in a sloppy, fast, open-mouthed kiss before Bucky tears away and drops to his knees. 

His shorts and boxer briefs are dragged down over his hips and thighs, falling silently to the floor. Steve looks down to see Bucky licking his lips in an obscene way. A whimper dribbles out of his mouth as Bucky leans in, hands braced on both of Steve’s quads. He thinks Bucky is going to swallow him down right off the bat, but he seems to have other plans.

Like slowly driving Steve insane. He touches his tongue to Steve’s cock and licks at the pre-cum leaking from the tip, then wraps his tongue around the head. Steve closes his eyes and pants, not so silently. He’s got both his hands in Bucky’s hair but doesn’t yank on his head, because he fucking hates that when guys do it to him without asking. He likes to be in control in that position, and is willing to let Bucky have that same control. 

Even if it kills him. Bucky just toys with him, licking at the head of his cock, drawing his fingertips up and down over Steve’s thighs until he’s so over-stimulated, his legs start to shake. His tongue circles around and works its way into the slit, probing him. He’s only using his tongue, no lips, no mouth yet. One hand wraps around the base of his cock, just holding him. That tongue keeps moving over him, from the tip down to his hand and back. It’s sweet torture. His cock is burning like it’s filled with lava. All Steve wants is for Bucky to take him to the back of his throat and suck him until he passes out. 

“Buck…please,” he begs, and his new lover smiles and gives him what he wants.

Wet, soft lips surround him, tighten up and slide downward. A hot mouth envelops his shaft. Bucky takes him in as deeply as he can and then hollows his cheeks and _sucks_. Steve’s eyes pop out of his head (almost); he arches his back, grips the edges of his counter and tries not to scream out loud. It’s tough. When Bucky starts to bob his head, Steve can’t hold it in any longer. Low moans are ripped from his throat. Watching those red, glistening lips sliding over his cock is so fucking arousing, he’s not sure he’s going to last much longer.

Bucky shows no signs of stopping, though, sucking and moving his cock in and out of his mouth rhythmically. Struck by a sudden desire to have all of Bucky’s hair in his hands, he reaches down again and pulls the hair tie from his head to release his long, dark locks. The hair tie gets tossed onto the countertop and Steve slides his fingers in. The movement of Bucky’s head stops; he closes his eyes, letting Steve’s hands flow over his hair, then resumes his pace. Steve doesn’t pull at it, instead he lets the strands glide through his fingertips as Bucky moves his head forward and back. 

Fuck, his hair is as soft as silk. His mouth is as soft as silk. And those lips, dragging up and down the length of his cock, over and over, is downright criminal. Bucky sucks and licks and mouths him until Steve is ready to fall apart. He feels it starting to build, the tension and heat deep at his center that means his orgasm is coming soon. 

“Bucky,” he breathes, warning him. “I’m gonna…you’re gonna make me come.”

After finishing his stroke, Bucky pulls off, resulting in a loss of heat around his shaft that is devastating. “Oh, don’t do that yet,” he says softly, shaking his head once. 

As he stands back up, he grabs at the hem of Steve’s shirt and pulls it up. Steve lifts his arms and his shirt comes off, going onto the counter. Quick as a flash Bucky pulls his own shirt off as well and tosses it next to the other, so they make a pair. Oh yeah, now they’re getting to it. Bare skin. _Yes._ He likes the direction this is going. He touches Bucky’s abdominal muscles, his chest. His skin is buttery smooth, tanned to golden perfection. He’s so mesmerized by the sight of Bucky’s naked upper body, he barely takes in his next words.

“Steve, I wanna eat you out. Just a little.” Bucky’s hands slide down his arms, then cover Steve’s hands with his own, like he can’t get enough of touching him, and that’s perfectly alright with Steve. Sure, his cock is screaming for more attention, but that can wait. Sure it can. Because his end game here is to get Bucky inside him, fucking him until he can’t see straight. Next best thing is to have Bucky’s mouth on him again. That sounds good. Steve nods. You bet that sounds good. 

That’s how he ends up face down on his bed, face buried in his pillow and ass in the air. They had rushed in, still kissing, flipping on lights and shucking off clothing. Bucky is behind him, hands mapping out his body before he pulls Steve’s cheeks apart and licks slowly, sensually into the cleft, moaning like he tastes better than anything _ever_. His tongue circles around Steve’s hole slowly, surely. Over and over he teases him, making circles around the rim, letting Steve mumble who knows what, into the mattress and into his pillow and into the air. His legs are quivering. His pulse is sky-high. Bucky doesn’t stop; his tongue is hot and wet and soft, dragging over and around that puckered spot.

Steve hears himself say, “Oh _God_ , yes. Bucky, yes,” at one point, and then it just becomes nonsensical groaning and bleating, because Bucky starts lapping at him like a kitten with a bowl of milk, making short, quick passes with his tongue, flicking over that sensitive skin. The moans turn almost into sobs, Steve wants him so much. His cock is incredibly hard, swollen to the point of pain, but he hasn’t touched himself yet. Really he wants Bucky to do it, to use his hand and push him over the edge. 

Bucky moans against his skin, and he feels the vibration of it everywhere. “Steve,” he groans out, “I wanna fuck you.”

Steve moans into his pillow. “Just a little?” he teases weakly, and hears Bucky either laugh or choke. Hard to tell.

“No. A lot. I wanna fuck you a lot,” he responds dryly. One finger moves over his entrance, not pushing in yet, just hovering, but it makes Steve crazy with need. Bucky rubs slowly over him and then licks where his finger was, and Steve cries out sharply. 

“Fuck! Yes, _Jesus_ , yes! Fuck me!”

“Mmm,” Bucky hums against his lower back and kisses it. “Lube?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Steve groans, because even though he’s half dead he’s still got some snark in him, and reaches with one hand to pull open the bedside table drawer. He takes out the small bottle of lube and tosses it in what he hopes is Bucky’s direction. 

A second later he hears the cap snapped off, and a few seconds after that, cool, wet fingers slide over his hole again. Bucky preps him skillfully and quickly, working in and out until he’s satisfied, either that he won’t hurt Steve, or he’s opened him up enough to get his cock in, painful or not. But knowing Bucky, Steve suspects the former is the case. Once he’s done, Steve is planning on flipping over, because this is too good not to see with his own eyes. He’s not staying face down for _this._

Before he even gets a chance to, Bucky removes his fingers and _asks_ him to turn over. “I wanna see you,” he says breathlessly, and waits until Steve has complied and gotten comfortable on his back, with his legs spread wide, knees bent. Bucky is between them, scooting in until he can’t get any closer. 

His eyes were on Steve’s face as he moved into position, and his expression matched the one he wore out in the hallway, when Steve felt like he was about to be ravaged. Once again, that look works like an aphrodisiac on him. He’s so fucking horny, his cock is purple and thick and pulsing with need. Bucky’s eyes drop to it and remain there.

“Oh fuck, Steve, you are so beautiful,” he whispers, and pushes himself up snug against Steve’s entrance. Both their bodies are hot, skin blazing, shaking with desire. Bucky takes Steve’s cock in his hand at the same time he pushes inside him. His thumb strokes along Steve’s length as he sinks himself in, deeper and deeper, until he can’t go any further, and moans happily.

Whimpering, Steve takes him in, loving that feeling of fullness, loving the feel of Bucky’s hand curled around his length. Bucky is careful to move slowly enough entering him that it doesn’t hurt, not really. The initial burn fades to nothing, and then it’s all Bucky, filling him with his own girth. He starts thrusting in and out, slowly at first. His free hand is at Steve’s hip, holding him steady as he fucks into him and strokes him simultaneously with his lubed up hand. 

Steve watches Bucky’s face. His lips are parted, pupils blown out black, cheeks reddened. He’s _gorgeous._ Steve sighs and fists the sheets in his hands. Bucky strokes him hard, in time with his own thrusts, and he almost forgets to start breathing again. It’s just how he likes it, hard and fast, like Bucky knew exactly what he wanted. All it takes is a minute of him being jerked off for Steve to erupt, painting his own stomach and chest in ecstasy. He’s coming so hard, he can’t keep his mouth quiet. He cries out Bucky’s name (a few times), takes the Lord’s name in vain (a couple of times) and begs for Bucky to fuck him harder (just once). That orgasm was massive, leaving him with muscles cramped with fatigue and a chest bathed in sweat, and Bucky hasn’t even ramped up to full speed yet.

But Bucky seems okay with Steve babbling like that. “Baby, you’re so good,” he croons. “You feel so good. I’m gonna give you _everything_.” Everything. God, yes. Steve wants that everything, wants Bucky to fuck into him so hard they punch a hole in the mattress. 

He looks up to watch his lover take him. Bucky’s chest glistens with moisture, like Steve’s own. His hair, down now since Steve removed his bun, swings back and forth with his body’s movements. Pace quickening, he holds Steve with both hands for more control. Strong hands grasp his hips and dig in. He closes his eyes momentarily and changes his angle, striking Steve’s prostate with every subsequent roll of his hips.

His hips snap and his cock gets buried so deep inside Steve with every stroke, Steve feels like he’ll explode. Thrust after thrust, his prostate gets stimulated until he’s sure he could orgasm again, if he had anything left in the tank. His moans have increased in frequency and in decibels, though not to the embarrassing range. Yet. Bucky’s driving into him as hard as he can now, and it’s _so fucking good_.

Reaching down with both hands, he finds Bucky’s forearms and strokes them lightly. He just wants to feel more of him. All of him. Let him know he likes this, since words seem beyond his capability right now. Bucky’s eyes are still closed, but he smiles at the sensation, squeezes Steve’s hips harder, and rockets his body forward and back, continuing his barrage. The noises he makes are equally as loud as Steve’s but infinitely more sexy. Steve doesn’t think he sounds _that_ good in bed. And oh, those sounds…they could make him come again, probably untouched, if he even could manage it. A minute ago he felt spent to the point of exhaustion. 

Bucky’s stamina is impressive. He’s still rocking into Steve like they just got started, and goddamn if Steve’s not getting a little hard again already. It’s so hot, watching Bucky fuck him, hearing Bucky fuck him, and most of all _feeling_ Bucky fuck him. That thick, hard length, moving inside him, plunging completely in and pulling almost all the way back out every time. Those strong hands, gripping him, stroking him. Bucky’s massive thighs are straining against his ass, his abdominal muscles are pulled tight, and his wide shoulders sway forward and backward smoothly. _Unbelievable._ Yup, he’s hard again.

It’s that last thrust, when Bucky arches his back and keens loudly, that makes Steve come for the second time. Untouched. Bucky sees it too; a ghost of a smile passes across his face, then he grits his teeth and undulates against Steve as he reaches his breaking point and comes inside him. Steve can feel his muscles tense up as he groans out his pleasure. Steve cries out again and grips his forearms, trying to pull him in even deeper. Bucky grinds against him tightly at his peak, then rides him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, slowing his pace to allow his breathing to come back down to a normal pace. 

When they finally separate, Steve feels like he’s paralyzed with fatigue. He’s on his back, legs flopped out flat on the mattress, breathing heavily, when Bucky leans over him and kisses his shoulder, then hops off of the bed. Steve doesn’t even lift his head. He hears water running in the bathroom and then Bucky comes back with a warm, wet hand towel for Steve to clean himself up with, because shit, Bucky is one of the most thoughtful people he’s ever met.

“Thanks,” Steve wheezes, taking the towel offered to him and using it on his stomach and chest. 

Bucky slides onto the bed next to him. “So, I’ve never done this before…” he pauses when Steve does pick up his head to stare pointedly at him, eyebrows raised. “I mean,” he clarifies, “I’ve done _this_ before.” He points at the bed. “But I haven’t done _this_ type of relationship before.” He points to himself and to Steve. “So I don’t really know how it works. If you want to kick me out straight away, feel free…”

“No!” Steve says firmly, laying his hand on Bucky’s stomach. “You don’t have to go right away. Stay a while.” He’s been in situations where he did want his partner to scram immediately post-sex, or couldn’t wait himself to get up out of bed and go home. That was usually when things didn’t go well, and he and his partner weren’t really as compatible as they thought they’d be. But Bucky…that was incredible sex, and he feels closer to him because of the experience. That’s something he wants to hold on to. 

Bucky settles back down, lying on his side next to Steve. When Steve is done with the towel, he folds it up and drops it onto the floor next to the bed, then scoots back, hoping Bucky will spoon him. He does, making Steve smile. Bucky’s arm gets draped loosely over Steve’s side and their bodies are touching all the way down to their knees. It’s maybe the first time Steve can remember wanting someone to spend the entire night with him, but he’s got to remember what he agreed to. That’s not what Bucky wants. He shoves away the pang of regret that shoots right through his chest. But maybe he’s up for some pillow talk…between friends. 

“Tell me about when you were kids. Were you and your sister always close?”

Bucky’s up for it. He tells Steve stories from when they were children that make him laugh, and make him adore hearing that smooth voice. If he’s not careful he could fall asleep, not because Bucky is boring but because he makes Steve feel so contented. Once in a while he asks a question, just to keep himself from drifting off, but mostly he just listens. They talk for about a half an hour before Bucky touches his side with one hand and tells him he needs to go. 

“Yeah, sure,” Steve answers, and sits up.

“You don’t have to get up,” Bucky chides gently, and Steve chuckles. 

“Maybe I want some of those pretzels,” he jokes, bringing up a laugh from the brunet.

They collect their clothes from the various areas of Steve’s apartment where they were shed, and what could feel incredibly awkward doesn’t seem to feel awkward at all. Instead it just feels normal. 

“Where’d my shoes go?”

“Hallway.”

“These are your shorts, right? They look almost like mine.”

Both dressed, Steve sees Bucky to his door.

“I’m really glad you came down tonight,” Steve professes to him.

Bucky smiles. “Me too. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep.” 

Bucky was referring to golf tomorrow, not sex, but speaking of… 

“So, anytime you want to get together again, just say the word,” Steve invites him, trying to stay casual.

“Same goes for you.” Bucky gives him a lingering stare. “That was really…fantastic. Wouldn’t mind doing it again.” 

Steve can feel his cheeks warm. “Me either.”

Bucky touches Steve’s arm, then steps out the door.

Steve sighs. He doesn’t kiss him good-bye, because that feels like a really boyfriend-y thing to do. 

But he wants to.


	7. Have You Seen Each Other Naked?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky handle the fall-out of their night together. Not so much with each other...lots of talk with everyone else. And then kissing...NOT with everyone else. And then...

Chapter Seven

 _Thwack!_

“Put more weight on your front foot.”

 _Thwack!_

“More follow through on your swing. The sand will slow you down.”

_Crack!_

Bucky smiles from inside the sand bunker, up at Steve where he stands in the manicured grass. They’ve been practicing in the bunker for a half hour and Bucky’s finally getting it. That last shot brought his ball up out of the sand trap and twenty yards onto the green. 

“Brilliant! Ready to get up out of there?” 

“Hell yes,” Bucky agrees, lifting his shirt and mopping his brow with the bottom edge of it. 

The heat is already sweltering, the sun beating down on them in a cloudless sky. Bucky climbs up and out of the fine, white sand of the bunker and rejoins Steve. “I don’t think I like sand bunkers.” 

Chuckling, Steve picks up his golf bag. “Then stay out of them. Let’s go putt.” 

“Yes!” Bucky cheers. “Finally I get to putt!”

Steve smiles indulgently at him. Once they are set up on the putting green and practicing, Steve brings up the subject he’s been wanting to. As of yet, they hadn’t talked about any ramifications of last night. When he picked Bucky up at his apartment this morning, it was easy as breathing. Steve didn’t regret anything, and he’d hoped Bucky didn’t either. His smiling face at his door reassured him, as did their initial exchange.

“Sleep well?” Bucky had teased.

Steve grinned like an idiot. He’d gone out like a light, and had such sweet dreams. “Like a baby. You?”

Bucky pulled his door shut, clubs swung over one shoulder, and leaned in close. “It’s been a long time. I was so keyed up, I could hardly sleep. Almost came back down to see you again.”

Steve looked at him in surprise, and more than a little interest. Great. Now he had a stiffy in the hallway. Did he regret that? No. “I wish you would have,” he admitted, quirking one eyebrow as they traversed the hallway and started down the stairs. 

“And interrupt your beauty sleep? No way.” Bucky had smiled at him and Steve’s heart did that fluttery thing. 

Steve reached the bottom of the steps first, then turned and waited for him. “Next time you can’t sleep? Come back down.” His eyes raked up and down over Bucky’s form as he reached the last step.

Bucky passed very close to him and put his mouth next to his ear. “If you don’t quit it, we’re not even going to get out of this building.” Then he had blown past him and hit the exit. 

That was how the morning started, and it just got better from there. They both had started sweating early on and it’s a good look on the brunet, in Steve’s opinion. Bucky’s shirt, damp with sweat, is currently clinging to his defined chest and upper back as he lines up a putt. 

“So, let me ask you something,” Steve starts. “What’s your feeling on anyone else knowing about last night?”

Bucky pushes a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. “Well, my initial reaction is to say no, I don’t really want anyone else knowing our business.” He sends his golf ball towards the hole and then leans on his club. His ball rolls right up to the lip of the cup and stops. “Damn! That never happens at Putt Putt!” he curses and then goes on. “But, there’s virtually no chance Darcy isn’t going to hound the information out of me at some point.” Steve chuckles quietly. _I’ll just bet she will._ “And I assume Sam will do a certain amount of hounding, too?”

Steve nods. “At some point.” That’s a safe assumption.

“I don’t want you to have to lie about anything to your friends,” Bucky says, and taps his putt in. “So I guess my answer is if it comes up, yes, I’m okay with people finding out about last night.”

“They’re your friends now, too, Buck. Not just mine. You’ve inherited us all, for better or worse,” he jokes, and Bucky gets this sweet look on his face that makes Steve’s insides turn to goo. “But don’t worry, even if they know, they won’t give you any shit about it,” he promises. 

“No shit?” Bucky says, eyebrows arched.

“Nope. No shit,” Steve confirms. _Not when I threaten them with bodily harm._ He lines up his own putt, head down. 

“Okay then—if I get any shit, I’m telling them you bottomed for me.”

Steve throws his head back in laughter and looks back at Bucky, who is smiling like the Cheshire Cat. 

“Deal.”

\--

“Chimichangas.”

“What?” 

“You heard me,” Sam states. “Chimichangas.”

Steve smiles and turns off the TV. Sam has just changed out of his scrubs and appeared from the depths of his bedroom so they can grab a bite to eat. Steve left it up to his friend to choose where to go. Chimichangas mean their favorite Mexican place, where the food is fabulous and the margaritas are gigantic. 

If Steve has a weakness, it’s margaritas. 

They arrive fairly late as far as the dinner hour is concerned, so the wait isn’t long. The restaurant is a stucco-walled place with arched doorways and brightly painted colors. They get a small table over in a corner. Steve hasn’t told Sam anything about Saturday night yet. He is of the same opinion as Bucky, in that he kind of wants to keep their new relationship status private as long as they can. With Sam it’s mostly because he knows what his reaction will be. He can practically hear the words coming out of his mouth now. _”You’re going to get hurt if you don’t tell him.”_

Maybe imaginary Sam is right, but Steve doesn’t care. Maybe he wants to be reckless with his heart for once. Maybe he wants to play fast and loose with his emotions, just for a _chance_ to be with Bucky. So what if he only wants to be friends? That was the best fucking sex Steve has had in a long time. And he doesn’t want to hear Sam tell him how this isn’t a good idea. It’s an excellent fucking idea. So, imaginary Sam can bite him. 

“Dude, what’s wrong?”

Steve startles. “What?”

Sam rubs his goatee. “You’re looking at me like you’re pissed off.” 

“Oh! No, not at all,” Steve denies, and puts down the menu he wasn’t reading. “Just thinking. You know what you want?”

Sam smiles. “Hell yeah, I told you already. Chimichangas, baby.”

Steve grins back; chimichangas do sound good. Their waitress appears and takes their drink order. They both have to work tomorrow so Sam passes on the margarita, but Steve decides he can have one without much danger of repercussion. Extra salt. 

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” Sam is looking at him with an odd expression on his face.

“Why do you ask?” Steve deflects his question.

“Because this is the first time in weeks you haven’t mentioned Bucky at least a dozen times during conversation. Did you two have a fight or something?”

Steve knits his eyebrows together. “A fight! No, what would we fight about?”

A dry laugh emanates from the dark-skinned man. “I don’t know, but I’m telling you, you are acting strangely.” He holds out an index finger and wags it in Steve’s direction. “You know you can’t keep a secret from me for long.” 

Smiling nervously, Steve buries his nose back in his menu. He manages to keep the conversation on other topics for most of dinner. Sam doesn’t press, he just waits for it. And old habits die hard. Steve’s so used to confiding in his old friend that as he is sucking down the last dregs of his margarita, he’s spilling his guts. 

“I slept with Bucky,” he announces loudly. 

That margarita must have had extra tequila in it. 

Sam drops his fork. He looks around at the patrons around them, but luckily there is guitar music playing in the background that seems to have masked Steve’s declaration. “What?” His eyes are like saucers as he looks back at his companion again. 

Steve leans forward over the table and whispers, still pretty loudly, “I slept with him, Sam.”

Sam motions with his head. “And?”

“And it was spectacular,” Steve tells him, sitting back in his chair, almost sounding disappointed about it. 

Sam picks up on his tone and body language. “So why didn’t you come running to my apartment to tell me that as soon as it happened? What’s wrong?”

Steve toys with his napkin, folding it and unfolding it in his lap. “He only…he only wants to be friends with benefits.”

Sam is silent. 

“No, I didn’t tell him I want more.” Steve answers his unspoken question, sounding like a four year old who’s just admitted to flushing a toy down the toilet. 

Sam stares and rests his chin in his hand, one elbow on the table.

Steve protests adamantly. “I can’t tell him! He’ll end it right now, and I don’t want it to end!”

Wordlessly Sam leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head, still staring. 

“I know you think I’ll get hurt,” Steve asserts, “But I can handle it.”

Both of Sam’s eyebrows form perfect arches. His lips are pursed. 

Steve leans forward over the table again. “Stop lecturing me, Sam!”

Finally the stoic expression on his face breaks and Sam laughs in exasperation.

Steve’s got on his stubborn face now, bottom lip sticking out. “He doesn’t want to get involved.”

“Baby, you’re already _involved_.” Sam looks at him and sighs, seemingly giving in. “Okay, whatever you say.” He shifts gears, and shifts in his seat. “You two keeping this on the DL then?”

Steve relaxes. Man, can Sam be so _bossy_. “We’re not going to lie. But I don’t really want to hear everyone’s crap about it, either.” 

“I’m sure we can keep them off your back somehow.”

Steve grins. “Bucky said if anyone gave him a hard time, he’d tell them I bottomed.”

Sam groans and covers his ears. “Dude. That will definitely work on the others, cuz no one wants to hear that shit.”

Steve snorts. “The others? What about you?”

Sam stiffens in his chair. “Now Steve, you know I’m such an awesome friend that I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“And you don’t want to hear that shit, either.” 

He nods and grins. “And I don’t want to hear that shit, either.”

\--

Bucky and Zeus stop by to see Steve a day later. Bucky has on work clothes, like he’s just gotten home. Steve _did_ just get home and is wearing a white dress shirt and cobalt blue tie, since he met with clients earlier. Zeus has on his baby blue leash and harness, and wags his tail at Steve when he opens his door. Bucky gets a hello, while Zeus gets some pets on the back. They both get invited in, and Bucky gets right to the point of his visit.

“Hey, just a heads up, Darcy and Thor already know.” Bucky looks apologetic, hands stuffed in his pockets. Zeus is exploring Steve’s living room, nose to the ground. 

Steve chuckles. “That didn’t take long.”

“They double-teamed me,” Bucky states, protesting his innocence.

Steve rolls his eyes to the ceiling and laughs. “Sam knows too. Guess we’re not very stealthy.” 

Bucky smiles like they’ve just shared a secret. “I don’t feel so bad now.”

“Yeah, but you told twice as many people as I did,” the blond teases. 

Bucky’s mouth drops open and then turns into another grin. “Two people,” he says. “I told two people.”

“And I only told one.” Steve holds up his index finger in front of Bucky, who bats at it playfully, then narrows his eyes. 

“But did he tell his girlfriend?” he asks suspiciously.

Steve’s mouth falls open this time. “Uhhhhh….” He has no idea. He didn’t tell him _not_ to. And Sam tells Natasha pretty much everything, so…

There is laughter from Bucky next. “Aha! So we’re even!” he exclaims, and points at Steve, who must squash the impulse to take his hand and hold it. Or kiss it. Or kiss him on the mouth. Damn, he just wants more contact. Any way he can get it. 

“Hey, wait,” he tries one more argument. “Zeus knows, right?”

Bucky laughs even harder. “He’s a _dog!_ ”

“Still counts,” Steve declares seriously. He doesn’t know why it’s suddenly a competition, but it is.

“Does not.” Bucky looks around and whistles. “Come on, buddy. Gotta go before Steve incriminates you for the JFK thing, too.” He grins and changes the subject. “Friday night, right?”

Steve nods. “Friday. Bring your ‘A’ game.” They’re drafting for football Friday night. 

Bucky leans in and grabs his tie. “Are you going to be wearing one of these?”

Looking down at his tie, being crushed in Bucky’s hand, Steve smiles crookedly. “Wouldn’t want to intimidate everyone else.”

“Too bad,” Bucky says, and smooths the fabric down again, hand on Steve’s chest. “You clean up nice. Kind of a turn-on.”

Steve’s cock twitches hard inside his pants and his chest heaves. He’d like for Bucky’s hand to slide right down and explore that twitch, maybe encourage some more motion there, but he’s so surprised he doesn’t even get any words out. So Bucky likes a well-dressed man, huh? Good to know. Zeus has come trotting back to his master’s side; Bucky winks, bends down to pick up his leash, and they are on their way, leaving Steve speechless at his door. Speechless and horny. 

_Damnit, Bucky. What_ are _you doing to me?_

\--

When draft day arrives, Steve is ready. Everyone will be descending upon his place at seven that evening, and he’s already been to the grocery store for food and drink, and cleaned his apartment. His living room is big enough for two couches, facing each other, and one armchair, but that’s still not enough seating, so he’s dragged in two chairs from the kitchen table. 

Also he showered when he got home from work, because he’s hoping Bucky will want to stay afterward for a little extra-curricular activity. Hoping may not be the right descriptor. Desperately wanting? More appropriate. 

He hasn’t stopped thinking about last Saturday night, and Bucky flirting with him about his tie left him hungry for so much more. During his run the evening before, he saw the tiny black dachshund and his not-so-tiny owner from a distance on a park trail, and boy did his mind go into overdrive, thinking about all of the fondling and the kissing and the touching they could do. About how next time they are together he wants to explore that perfect body in close detail. With his tongue. 

What surprised him the most was how much he thought about and enjoyed their afterglow conversation, with Bucky spooning into his back. How he’d like to do that every time, and snuggle and kiss and look into those icy blue eyes…and damn, that not only gave him a hard-on, it made his chest feel all weird and tight. He had to stop that line of thinking and concentrate on something else so he wasn’t running through the park with a giant bulge in his shorts, feeling like he was about to have a heart attack. 

When it’s party time, Sam and Natasha are first to arrive. Sam is carrying a case of beer and two iPads for them to draft on; Natasha holds a crock pot full of meatballs. She snags the iPads and sets them down on a table, then sets her crockpot on top of the case of beer in Sam’s arms. He struggles on into the kitchen, while Natasha pulls Steve to one side. 

“Steve, I hope you don’t mind…Sam told me about you and Bucky,” she starts, and puts her hands on both his shoulders. “You haven’t given up though, right?”

Sam sets his load down on the countertop with an exaggerated groan. “It’s okay, I’ve got this!”

Steve and Natasha ignore him and Steve offers her a weak smile. “No, I haven’t given up…mostly.” 

She pats his shoulders. “Good boy. Just give it time.”

With a sigh, Steve shakes his head. “I don’t know if it will do any good, Nat, but time I’ve got.”

Sam yells over from the kitchen, “Woman, what are you filling his head with?”

“Good advice,” she yells back with a grin, and turns to join her boyfriend. 

Steve does too, but then there is another knock on his door. It’s Clint and Thor, soon to be joined by Peter and his next door neighbor, Scott Lang, a trim, forty-ish realtor who would rather bowl than play basketball, but otherwise is a great guy. Scott and Peter have brought drinks, too, while Clint and Thor come laden down with bags of Cheetos, potato chips, and Doritos. Tony and Bucky are the last to arrive, also bearing nourishment to contribute to the party. Steve has made large quantities of taco salad and also has hummus and pita chips at the ready. 

Draft day is serious business. 

They don’t just draft, though, it’s a lot of talk and stories and general goofing off, so it takes a while for everyone to take turns and draft their entire Fantasy team. Introductions are made for Bucky, Tony and Scott, and then they get down to brass tacks. Steve didn’t have time to survey his friends and see how far the gossip on him and Bucky had spread, but fortunately no one brings up the subject most of the way through the evening…most of the way. 

While Thor is stalling and vacillating between two wide receivers, Steve decides to check the food situation in the kitchen. They have everything laid out on the peninsula, along with paper plates, plastic cups and silverware. Drinks are over by the sink. The taco salad has been completely decimated, so Steve is digging the second tray out of the fridge when Bucky strolls in. 

He leans over the other side of the peninsula, between two bar stools. “Steve, did you make that yourself?”

Steve nods as he brings it out and sets it down on the counter. “You like it?”

“Love it!” Bucky says vehemently, and Steve can’t help smiling. 

“You actually _are_ dynamite in the kitchen,” Bucky compliments and teases him, then leans in closer to whisper his next words. “And the bedroom.” 

His eyes rove up and down, taking Steve in; there is a fast rush of heat that goes right to Steve’s groin and makes him glad he’s on the other side of the cabinetry, where Bucky can’t see his lower half. He leans over the counter as well, getting down on his elbows to bring their faces level. Bucky looks good enough to eat; his hair is down again, soft and wavy, looking completely touchable. 

“You were fantastic.” Steve murmurs to him. “Drove me crazy.” 

Bucky has a look on his face like he might want to make out, right in the middle of the party, a feeling that Steve reciprocates. He wishes he could kick everyone else out right now, and spend the rest of the night defining what “friends with benefits” really means. As it is, though, he’s got to wait. But, you know, might as well make some plans.

He speaks softly. “Later tonight, you wanna…” 

Steve doesn’t get to finish his sentence; Clint barges into their space and lays one hand on each of their shoulders, standing at the round end of the peninsula. “Hey boys. I’ve heard _some of us_ are getting mighty cozy with each other. You two wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” 

Steve groans inwardly, but Bucky pipes up right away. “Sure do!” he says in a perky voice. His eyes are on Steve as he addresses Clint. “Do you want to know who’s pitching and who’s catching?” 

Steve grins and joins in. “Or maybe you want more of a _blow by blow_ description.”

There is other conversation going on in the living room, but Steve and Bucky pitch their voices so that anyone in the other room who was listening would be able to hear them. Clint instantly shakes his head and claps both of them on the shoulder. “No, no I do not want that,” he states firmly, and grabs the bowl of hummus. 

“Then don’t ask,” Steve laughs and scolds him. 

Clint makes a pouty face. “You’re taking all the fun out of this, Rogers.” 

“Thank God,” Steve looks to the heavens.

Clint snorts and looks toward the living room. “Well, hurry up, lovebirds. Thor has finally answered his own million dollar question and picked a receiver.” He steals the hummus and the pita chips, absconding to the living room with it all. Bucky and Steve both look at each other. 

“Maybe that will hold them off for a while,” Steve says hopefully. He stands up straight and Bucky follows, but bends in again and crooks a finger at him, beckoning him. Steve circles around the counter and puts his ear close to Bucky’s mouth. 

Bucky whispers softly. “And later? I wanna.”

There’s that fireball in Steve’s crotch again. He manages to get back to his seat without revealing anything embarrassing, and the draft continues. For a while, Steve doesn’t hear any more razzing from anyone, but he supposes getting through the whole night unscathed would have been too much to ask. 

Peter starts it off by asking who’s interested in sharing season tickets again this year. Last year a few of them went in together for a pair of tickets, then split up the games between themselves. 

Sam speaks up first. “Nat and I are in.”

Clint is next. “I’m not sure I can swing it this year. My car is on its last leg.”

“What?” Thor exclaims. “That’s bullshit. Come on, Clint, don’t leave me hanging.” He and Clint went to more than one game together last season. 

“Hey, I don’t like it either, dude, but hello, car payment?”

“Well I’m in,” Steve confirms.

“I might be interested,” Bucky says, perking up like a dog who’s heard the doorbell ring. 

Clint holds up his beer. “There, Thor, you can go with Bucky. Problem solved.”

“Steve wants to go with Bucky,” Peter jokes.

“Shut up, Peter,” Steve tells him, hoping to shut things down, but that only makes it worse.

Thor laughs and gives him a thumbs up. “Snappy comeback, Steve.”

“You saying you don’t want to go with me?” Bucky’s eyes are twinkling. 

Steve turns and looks incredulously at him, mouth open. _Who’s side are you on?_ “NO, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Aww, lover’s spat. You two are so cute,” Peter harangues them. 

“Really Peter?” Steve says, in an only minutely whiny voice. 

“Cool it, Pete, or we’re all going to get an earful,” Clint warns him. 

“An earful of what?” Peter scoffs, shoveling some taco salad into his mouth. 

_At least Clint was paying attention._

Natasha, sitting next to Peter, whispers something in his ear. He looks at her, then at Bucky and Steve, sitting next to each other. Bucky scoots closer to Steve and puts his arm around his shoulders, smiling broadly. Steve feels himself turn red, like his schoolboy crush has just been exposed, but at the same time likes having Bucky’s arm around him. It’s warm and solid, and Bucky wraps his hand around his shoulder, holding him. Delightful.

Peter coughs and swallows down his mouthful of food.

“What was that, Peter?” Bucky gloats just a little.

“Uhhhh, nothing,” Peter chirps. “So that’s six then, good. I’ll let you guys know when I have the tickets.” He pointedly takes another huge bite of food and chews.

Bucky and Steve trade glances and both giggle a little. Bucky withdraws his arm, but does so slowly, unnecessarily sliding his hand across Steve’s neck as he does so. Also delightful. 

Scott is looking at them both curiously. “Are you two dating?” He points at them both. 

“No,” Steve and Bucky both answer simultaneously.

Scott appears skeptical. “Okaaaay…” he pauses and scratches at the short, dark hair covering his head. “Have you seen each other naked?”

“Jesus, Scott!” Steve blurts out. 

Scott just smiles. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

“Inquiring minds can go…”

Thor breaks into Steve’s insult. “Now, now, Steve, there’s a lady present.”

“Thank you, Thor!” Natasha responds.

Thor grins. “I was talking about Clint.” 

There are several laughs and Clint snorts loudly before Thor goes on. “Besides, it’s none of our business what’s going on between them.” He smiles wolfishly. “Until you get one of them alone, and make him tell you everything.”

Steve can feel Bucky shake with laughter next to him, and hears a lot more laughing going on around the room, too. He groans and shakes his head. 

That’s the end of that conversation, but Steve does get assailed one more time; this time it’s Tony, who accosts him when he is waiting for the bathroom and catches Steve just coming out of it. 

“Hey!” Tony smacks him on the arm and speaks in an undertone. “I thought we were friends. Why haven’t you told Maria and me about your new boyfriend?” 

Steve smacks him back. “Shhhhh! He’s not my boyfriend!” he hisses. 

Tony looks down his nose at the blond. 

Steve sighs in frustration. “He…it’s not dating. We’re just…casual. Friends,” he finishes in a hushed whisper. 

Tony looks unconvinced. “This is the same guy who went with you to Maria’s house, right?”

Steve answers affirmatively, but looks confused. “Yeah, why?”

Pulling out his phone and paging through it quickly, Tony shows him a picture. “Then why did Maria tell me she thought you’d found a date for Sharon’s wedding?” 

Steve focuses on the image. It’s a picture Maria took of the armoire after they finished moving it. Steve sees himself, leaning back against it with his eyes closed. Next to him is Bucky, also leaning against the armoire but with his head turned and looking at Steve, with an expression Steve doesn’t know. Curiosity? There’s something calculating about it that he can’t identify. Bucky is looking at him like he’s gotten a new jigsaw puzzle to solve. 

“Can you send that to me?” he asks, pointing at his phone, and grimaces when Tony snorts in laughter. 

“Yes, I’ll send it to you…friend.”

“We really are friends!” Steve insists, and Tony waves his hand at him and heads in to the bathroom.

Finally the party breaks up and Steve’s guests gather their things and leave, one by one. Sam and Natasha, first to arrive, are also last to go, with the exception of Bucky. Natasha gives Steve a knowing look before grabbing Sam’s arm and pulling him up and out of his seat on the couch. “Grab the crockpot, babe, we’re leaving,” she directs him; she gives Steve a quick hug and picks up their iPads. 

“Catch you two later,” Sam says breezily in goodbye. 

Steve and Bucky both say goodnight; Natasha waves at Bucky, who is seated on the couch also, and the couple let themselves out. 

“So…” Steve looks at Bucky. They’re finally alone, and Steve’s heart is pounding, he’s so up for this.

“So…” Bucky repeats in a sultry voice, and slides down to Steve’s end of the couch. 

They come together and Steve wraps one hand around the back of Bucky’s neck to pull him in, just like Bucky had a hold of him earlier. Their lips meet softly, as if they both know this time around it’s going to be different. Not so rushed, more intimate. Even more time for savoring each other’s bodies, for finding out their likes and dislikes, the way they both like to be touched.

Steve slips his tongue in between Bucky’s parted lips and finds his warm, slick tongue waiting for him. Mmm. It’s so hot, the way Bucky licks all the way into his mouth, the way he wraps his tongue around Steve’s. He likes the way Bucky kisses. He likes it a lot. He’s already got the taste of him memorized and imprinted in his brain. He’s delicious. 

The only things Steve is aware of is the sound of their breathing, Bucky’s mouth on his, and his own hand sliding into the long hair on the back of his head. He tilts Bucky’s head more to the side, trying to go deeper, wanting to taste every bit of him that he can.

Next he becomes aware of Bucky’s hand, which has found his empty one. His fingertips slide over Steve’s palm and down over his fingertips, before twining their fingers loosely together in Steve’s lap. It’s such a tender gesture, it steals his breath away. Are all friends with benefits relationships like this? Steve’s never been in one so he has no idea what it’s supposed to be like. Sex, sure. But he thought it would be colder. More impersonal. 

He should have known that Bucky would never do that. Bucky would never treat him like he was just a lay, just a roll in the sheets, even if that’s really what he was. He should have known he would make him _feel_ all kinds of things. He squeezes Bucky’s hand lightly but keeps their fingers loose. Their mouths, on the other hand, are pressed tightly together, still kissing as intensely as they can.

Wanting to feel more of his partner’s anatomy, Steve slowly pushes him back, down onto his back on the couch. Bucky goes willingly, wrapping his hands around Steve’s back. Steve gets on top of him, covering his body with his own. His knees are around Bucky’s legs; his hands are on either side of his shoulders. He lets his body weight sink in, pressing their chests together. This couch is good for more than just naps.

Bucky’s hands run up either side of Steve’s back and over his shoulder blades. He moans softly into Steve’s mouth. It’s erotic beyond description. They’re still fully clothed, but Steve’s got an erection that is defying gravity, and when he pushes his pelvis down against Bucky’s, he can feel the man below him is in similar shape. 

The friction when he rocks his hips, even just a little, is sensational, full of promise and dirty possibilities. So many dirty possibilities. Steve hasn’t even really thought that far ahead, about what he wanted to do with Bucky tonight. Anything. Everything. Maybe he’ll leave it up to Bucky to decide. He digs his hip in a little more, and Bucky pushes back against him, grabbing onto Steve’s ass with both hands to hold their bodies against each other. He ruts against Steve, this time eliciting a heavy groan from the man above him.

Finally Steve breaks off their marathon kiss and looks Bucky in the eyes, breathless and wanting. Bucky shifts underneath him, again brushing his hardened cock against Steve’s. 

“So,” he says teasingly. “Now that you’ve got me here, what are you going to do with me?”

A slow smile spreads across Steve’s face. “What am I going to do with you?” He nuzzles his nose against Bucky’s cheek and brings his lips in close, brushing them first across his mouth, then over his ear. Softy he whispers into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, terrible place to end a chapter, but this was going to be a monster if I didn't stop there. You all don't mind, right? ;-)


	8. Playing With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Nothing but pure, unadulterated smut. If you're looking for plot in this chapter, skip it. If you're looking for word porn, then you've come to the right place. :-)

Chapter Eight

Steve has his mouth a centimeter from Bucky’s ear when he whispers huskily, “I want to feel you from the inside. And we’re not stopping until we’ve fucked each other unconscious.”

The brunet lying underneath him on the couch sucks in some air. “That might take quite a while.”

Steve’s lips attach themselves to the lobe of his ear and close over it, nibbling softly. “I’m counting on it,” he murmurs. 

Bucky turns his head away slightly, exposing more of himself to Steve’s mouth. “And it sounds pretty exhausting.” His hands slip underneath the fabric of Steve’s shirt and over the bare skin of his sides. 

“I’m counting on that, too,” Steve murmurs; he adds his teeth this time, biting down gently. 

There is a sigh from Bucky with just a hint of a whimper attached to it. Steve bites down a fraction of an inch harder and tugs. He is rewarded with another audible sigh and fingers that dig into his flesh, not enough to hurt, just enough to tell him he’s on the right track. After a few more exploratory bites and guttural whines, Steve releases his ear, planning to move on to greener pastures. Bucky immediately turns his face to Steve’s and captures his red lips for another wet joining, attacking his mouth mercilessly but briefly, before he pulls his head back and speaks. 

“We might not even be able to stand up afterwards.” His eyes are so dark, Steve can hardly even see any of the grey-blue in them. 

“Bonus,” Steve purrs. 

Tearing his eyes from the ravenous smile Bucky is bestowing on him, Steve presses kisses down the side of his jaw, on every bit of flesh along the way that he can find. His skin is soft and feels awesome on his lips, with a thin layer of stubble that tickles him. The contour of Bucky’s jaw seems to fit perfectly between his lips as he works his way around toward the other ear. 

His kisses are light nips but packed with heat, and Bucky responds oh so nicely; his breathing has picked up, and by the time Steve works his way down to his neck, he wrings a soft moan from his lover. And oh, that neck. Steve’s got to admit, just about his favorite place to kiss, besides the mouth, is on the neck. It would be so easy and so rewarding to cover Bucky’s neck with hickeys, but he’s not going to succumb to that impulse. 

Reason one, because in his opinion it’s fucking rude, when you’re not sixteen and you have a job with a professional image to uphold. He doesn’t want Bucky to be embarrassed by him. Reason two, there are plenty of other just as interesting places to leave hickeys that are less visible to co-workers and clients. Steve’s planning on hitting one or two, or several, of them. 

But first, he fists Bucky’s hair in his hand and tilts his head back, lavishing the tender skin with soft kisses, up underneath the ear and down towards the collarbone. Bucky lets out a groan that sends lightning bolts straight through Steve’s groin. He hums in contentment when Bucky moves his hands further up underneath his shirt to his mid back, and strums his fingertips over the wide plane of muscle. Steve drags his tongue up from the hollow at Bucky’s throat and over his Adam’s apple. Once his tongue runs out of real estate at his chin to swoop over, he slots his mouth over Bucky’s and kisses him again for all he’s worth. It’s only at this point he seems to remember what’s been going on down below their belt lines.

Rocking his hips, he finds the hard outline of Bucky’s cock again and pushes himself against it with a low grunt of satisfaction. _Oh yeah_ , there it is. That cock he’s suddenly determined to get his mouth on tonight. Bucky pushes back up against him just as hard, and kisses him back just as hard too, with his enthusiastic tongue dueling Steve’s. Steve makes it last, devouring him until his jaw starts to ache and he can’t seem to take in enough air.

Breathlessly, he breaks off the kiss. “Fuck!” He pants and looks down with Bucky, with his wet, glistening lips that are now kiss-bruised. “You’re so goddamned hot,” he professes. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I can’t wait to find out.” With his eyes Bucky motions to the hallway. “Let’s go,” he entreats Steve.

Steve thinks this is the best idea he’s heard all day, and nods once eagerly in agreement. He pushes up and levers his body off of Bucky’s, then stands and offers his hand. Bucky takes it and allows Steve to haul him up to his feet. Keeping his hand, Steve leads Bucky down the short hallway to his bedroom. He flips a switch to turn on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in soft, low light. At the edge of the bed he stops and turns to face his partner.

“Clothes. Off.” Steve demands, and tugs upward on Bucky’s shirt to remove it from his body. The shirt goes flying past his eyes in a blur, only to fall discarded to the floor. He hooks his fingers into Bucky’s belt and hauls him in so they can kiss for the twentieth time, because damnit, he can’t get enough kissing in tonight, like tomorrow it will be outlawed or something. He crushes their mouths together, and as Bucky tries to wrestle Steve’s shirt off, rucking it up under his arms, Steve is trying to undo Bucky’s belt. They pull apart to argue good-naturedly with each other. 

“Take off your shirt,” Bucky growls. 

“You take off your shorts,” Steve fires back, yanking harder on the belt buckle. 

Steve wins, getting the belt unclasped and virtually tearing it off of him, but the other man is equally impatient. He pushes Steve’s arms up over his head and drags his shirt up and off, dropping it to the floor. Now that they’ve got some naked skin to work with, some of the urgency dies down. _Some._ There’s time for more needy, lust-filled kissing. Steve runs his hands up and over Bucky’s chest, over those rounded pectorals and the pert, brown skin of his nipples. Bucky expels a rush of air into his mouth, which Steve makes a note of. Nipple play, saved for later. Check. 

At the moment he’s more concerned with getting their remaining articles of clothing off. He reaches down and gets the button open and zipper down on Bucky’s shorts, pushing them down over the crest of his hips. Reluctantly he breaks off their kiss to look down and see what he’s doing. Bucky’s trails his hands over his biceps, then wraps his arms around him and gropes his way up his back.

“Steve,” he whispers, as Steve pulls his shorts and underwear down completely, letting them pool on the floor. They’ve both kicked off their flip-flops. 

Steve stops then, paralyzed, looking down at Bucky’s erection. His mouth drops open. It’s huge, broad and long, and wet at the tip. He can see it in the low light, looking so inviting. He lays his hands on Bucky’s hips, still staring at his magnificent cock. There’s so much he wants to do with it, he doesn’t even know where to start. 

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky whispers again, more urgent this time, and grabs Steve’s chin in his hand to bring his face back up. 

“ _What?_ ” Steve asks, impatient with being distracted from the nirvana that Bucky had concealed in his drawers, and which he hasn’t had enough time yet to appreciate and marvel at. 

Bucky smirks slyly. “You stopped kissing me. My lips are getting lonely.”

Steve can’t help but let out a puff of laughter. Both their lips are swollen from so much kissing. “Are you seriously giving me shit right now? You’re playing with fire.”

Bucky leans in, brushing his lips against Steve’s. “But I like playing with fire. And you haven't kissed me enough yet.” 

The look on Bucky’s face is equal parts mischief and arousal. Steve smiles and shakes his head. “Fuck you,” he says, but in a _loving_ way. 

“I’m counting on it,” Bucky invites him, voice as smooth as glass. 

He pulls Steve’s chin the rest of the way in to him for another lip lock, and slides both hands down Steve’s arms to deal with the closure on his shorts. More kissing? Okay, Steve can handle that, if Bucky _insists_. In the back of his head he wonders if there’s always this much kissing with this type of relationship, but shrugs it off. So Bucky likes to kiss to get in the mood. Steve’s cool with that. So what if it means more to him than it does to Bucky? Bucky doesn’t know that, and Steve’s sure as hell not going to be the one to tell him. His eyes are closed but he can feel Bucky working his shorts open, with fingers that are sure and steady. Steve feels like he’s trembling already, like his whole body is vibrating with longing. 

Cool air hits his groin as Bucky successfully gets him unzipped and pushes his shorts and underwear down off of his hips. He’d like to look down again because, hello, hard-ons! Bucky isn’t releasing him from his kiss, though, instead stepping in and bringing their bodies even closer together. There is a zap of electric shock when Bucky’s cock touches his. Holy shit. His own tip was more than damp inside his shorts, and there’s that wetness he noticed on the end of Bucky’s shaft, too. 

Bucky’s hands are at his waist, rocking him forward at the same time he pushes his own pelvis in, sliding his erection alongside Steve’s in what is surely the sweetest type of friction there is. It makes him gasp and instinctively reach down for Bucky’s cock, rubbing his thumb into that messy, wet slit to spread around the pre-cum. Bucking his hips, Bucky moans out loud when he is touched. Steve feels hot all over, like he’s burning up from the inside out. Waves of pleasure emanate from his core and spread like ripples in a pool of water. 

Their hips roll forward and back in a slow rhythm, cocks brushing against one another as they move. Steve takes Bucky’s cock in his hand and palms him, holding them both flush together for more contact. It’s hard to concentrate on just one thing, there’s so much sensory information bombarding him. Bucky’s shaft next to his, Bucky’s hands gripping him, Bucky’s mouth moving on his. It’s all so fucking perfect. 

He gets a little more aggressive stroking Bucky’s cock with his hand. Instead of just holding them together, he’s fisting it and massaging it. Every time Bucky makes a sound, from low moans to higher pitched whines that come from the back of his throat, it eggs Steve on. He curls his fingers in and puts heavier pressure around the hard length, pumping his hand up and down. 

Bucky seems to like this quite a bit. “Oh yeah, Steve…fuck! Oh God,” he cries out, thrusting himself in and out of Steve’s fist. The words pour out of his mouth unchecked. His eyes are squeezed shut tight, his face screwed up in an expression of bliss. Steve’s never seen anything hotter, or more beautiful. He wants that look to last, so he’s not quite ready to let this go further and permit Bucky to finish. Not that quickly. He slows the motion of his hand and rubs his thumb around the tip of his cock, circling the head, teasing him but not wanting him to orgasm yet.

“Steve…” is Bucky’s desperate plea. “Put your mouth on me.”

His hands cup the cheeks of Steve’s ass. He chases Steve’s mouth, looking for another kiss, but for once Steve plays keep-away with him.

“You want me to go down on you? Suck your dick?” he says in a gravelly voice. He wants to. He can almost taste it, he wants Bucky’s cock in his mouth so badly. It’s thick and hard in his hand, and is gonna taste so good.

“Yes,” Bucky pleads. “Suck me.”

Steve turns his wrist and gives Bucky a final twist and pull before releasing him. “Lie down then,” he orders him, and gives him a little push toward the bed. 

Scooting up to the head of the bed, Bucky lies down on his back and waits for Steve to crawl to him. He pushes at one of Bucky’s legs to split them apart, then gets in between his muscled thighs. He’s got a great view of Bucky’s erection now, and his mouth is watering. His shaft stands proud, thick and long. Steve faces that dilemma again, not knowing what he wants to do first. 

His fingertips creep up the inside of Bucky’s thighs. He’s kneeling, but bends down even lower to bring his head in between Bucky’s legs. His eyes are locked with Bucky’s as the dark-haired man watches him closely, panting and waiting. Steve allows his lips to part a fraction of an inch and almost smiles when Bucky licks his lips in return. The pads of his fingers caress the soft skin to either side of Bucky’s balls as his head dips. 

Softly first, he touches his lips to the inside of one thigh and kisses it. He can feel the slight shaking in Bucky’s limbs and revels in it. He loves being the one to put Bucky in this state, the one to undo him. With his mouth he sucks the soft skin in, leaving a hickey in its wake, then creates a line of them down one thigh and up the other. He can hear Bucky’s ragged breathing and the soft smack of his own mouth when he pulls off of each spot. 

It’s intoxicating. His own cock is so hard, he can feel the blood pounding through it, and so wet it’s dripped onto the bed already. When he’s finally satisfied with the blooms of red marks he’s left on his lover, he moves up slightly and blows a cool breath of air over Bucky’s cock, watching it jump with glittering eyes. 

“Steve…please…” Bucky groans out in a pinched voice. He hasn’t touched himself at all while Steve was busy down there, a fact he appreciates. 

“You’ve been good, so I’m gonna make this good for you,” he assures him, and lazily strokes his index finger down the treasure trail of one hip, right to the base of his cock. 

He then places his tongue in that exact spot and runs it up the side of Bucky’s amazing erection. At the head he hovers there, mouth surrounding it but not quite touching it yet. He breathes out one more breath of air and then gently closes his mouth around it, just barely in contact, just covering the head. Bucky’s breath hitches and stutters. His intake of air sounds asthmatic, heavy and labored. Steve pulls his head back, sliding his lips off of the length he wants so much to swallow down, and swirls his tongue around the tip, so wet already.

This time Bucky doesn’t just wheeze, he moans outright and grabs onto the back of Steve’s head with both hands, sliding his fingers through his hair. Steve tightens his lips around the head again, this time sliding down and taking the rigid length into his mouth fully, or as much as he can anyway. When he’s got Bucky as deep as he can without choking, he pulls back, almost all the way off. He keeps his mouth snug around Bucky’s girth, sucking in and hollowing his cheeks as he repeats the pattern over and over, sucking him down hard and pulling off.

His movement is slow initially, gradually increasing in tempo. When Bucky impatiently starts to pump his hips up and fuck into Steve’s mouth, Steve lays his palms flat on his pelvis to hold him down. Bucky chokes out a groan but ceases his motion, letting Steve set the pace again. As he glides his wet lips up and down over Bucky’s cock, faster and faster, his own arousal grows, too, until he’s almost ready to come himself. The toughest part is hearing Bucky spit out tortured words, with his head thrown back on the bed and his hands in Steve’s hair. 

“Holy shit, Steve, yes,” he cries out. “Yes…oh fuck, I’m gonna come.” 

Steve appreciates the warning but has no intention of stopping. He hums his thanks as he pulls back his head again, sucking hard on Bucky, until he feels him tense up under his hands and shudder once. Hot fluid hits the back of his throat as Bucky comes, spilling himself with a hoarse cry. 

It’s almost enough to make Steve lose it, but he manages to keep it under control and not orgasm. He waits for Bucky to finish before releasing him, allowing his softening cock to slide from his mouth. Lube. He needs lube. Right now. Hastily he reaches over and gets into the drawer he needs, pulling out the small bottle while Bucky lays panting and recovering. His eyes track Steve’s movements, though, and when he sees the bottle he touches Steve’s empty hand, where it rests on the bed supporting his weight. 

“I hope you’re gonna use that on me.”

“Actually I was gonna use it on that _other_ naked guy in the room with us,” Steve kids sarcastically, as he snaps open the lid.

“Smart ass,” Bucky gripes playfully.

“And you have a gorgeous ass,” Steve states baldly. He coats his fingers liberally. “I can’t wait to fuck your gorgeous ass.”

“Then hurry up,” Bucky teases back, a devilish smile on his face.

Steve is kneeling in between Bucky’s legs. He pushes one up at the shin so Bucky bends his knees, then finds his tight entrance and rubs over it slowly with his other hand. 

“How long has it been for you?” he asks softly, gently. He doesn’t want to bring up bad memories, but if it’s been a long time, he’s going to have to go extra slow. 

Bucky closes his eyes. “Over a year,” he whispers, and his eyes pop back open. “But I want you to.” He looks down at Steve, imploring him with his eyes. “I want you inside me.”

Fuck. That’s all the encouragement Steve needs. Thinking about how tight Bucky’s passage is going to feel, with him squeezing around Steve’s cock, makes him hornier than ever and impatient to breach him, but he wants this to be just as enjoyable for his partner. Just knowing that he’s the first person Bucky has trusted enough to do this with gives him warm fuzzies in his chest, enough even to override the flaming desire that has engulfed him everywhere else. 

So he moves slowly. Slower than he wants to or thought he could bear to. When he penetrates Bucky with one finger, there is a sharp hiss of air from him, and Steve can feel his body tense up all over. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, and looks at Bucky’s face. He looks nervous but not distressed, and not like he wants to stop. “Tell me if it’s too much,” Steve tells him sincerely.

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s not too much.”

Steve works his finger in and out until he’s confident he can add another easily. With his free hand he’s dying to touch his own cock and stroke himself, but damn, he really wants to wait. So he resists. And fuck, if that’s not the most ridiculously difficult thing he’s done in a long time. Once he adds a second finger, things get exponentially harder, both literally and figuratively. 

When he curls his fingers and strikes Bucky’s prostate a few times, Bucky goes from nervous to ecstatic. Hearing those low animalistic sounds and whispery sighs takes Steve to a whole new level of arousal, and the feeling that he could drive nails into a board just using his rock hard cock. 

Just to make things a little _more_ interesting than they already are, as he scissors his fingers and pumps them in and out of Bucky’s tight body, he bends down and kisses the skin at the juncture of Bucky’s thigh and abdomen, right along the valley there. Bucky’s hands fly to his head again and he lets out a low whine that makes Steve’s toes curl. 

This spot is another perfect place to play, so he sucks just hard enough to bring the blood rushing up and flowering into a hickey mark. He travels inward, repeating the process to make more beautiful marks, all the while still stretching Bucky to get ready for the main event. Bucky’s breaths are fast and shallow, the noises he’s making so sexy and _filthy_ , it’s almost embarrassing. _Almost._ Steve takes it all in, committing it to memory so he can recall it later when he’s alone and wants to fantasize about it. 

He feels a touch of possessiveness when he sees the bruises starting to form. Though he knows Bucky doesn’t belong to him and never will (better not dwell on that too much at the moment), he’s here with him now, sharing himself in a way he doesn’t with anyone else, and that makes Steve feel special. 

Special, and frantic to get his cock inside Bucky’s sinful body. Finally he decides Bucky is ready for him and removes his fingers, then squirts some lube onto his cock and pushes right up against Bucky’s entrance. 

“Bucky,” he gasps, but before he can even say anything else, Bucky anticipates him.

“Don’t make me wait. I’m ready,” he begs breathlessly.

For his answer, Steve pushes in, working the head of his cock in past that tight ring of muscle to the soft heat of Bucky’s passage. It’s _everything_ he expected and more. He buries himself completely inside Bucky and then pauses, because holy fuck, he’s so tight, and his cock is going to get ripped off if he moves too fast. Bucky’s body is clenching around him 360 degrees, and it feels so fucking fantastic, he needs a second to adjust. 

He’s just about to ask Bucky if he’s okay when he looks down and sees that the brunet is starting to get hard again. His cock is at half mast, and isn’t that remarkable? Now he’s determined to make him come a second time. It’s his new mission. Not just fuck him into oblivion. He wants to see Bucky lose control and spill all over himself. 

He wishes he could fuck him and suck him off at the same time, but that would take a feat of inhuman flexibility, so that’s out. He’s just going to have to make do with what he’s got—and that’s a big, hard cock of his own. Currently embedded deep within his lover. He withdraws slowly and starts to pump his hips, almost peaking right then and there. It’s instant euphoria. Waves of pleasure crash through him, as powerful as he’s ever felt before. 

Every thrust…it’s just…scintillating, dazzling lights flashing in his field of vision and bolts of electricity coursing through his body. He can’t help it when the moans start pouring out of him, low and throaty. He grasps Bucky’s hips and drives in harder, pulls back farther, fucking into him with even more force.

“Buck…” he whines, “Oh my God, you’re so…you feel so good.” 

Bucky clutches at his forearms, holding him, encouraging him, cock bobbing with the rhythmic movements of their bodies as Steve starts pounding in and out. He’s grunting and straining with effort, snapping his hips and hitting Bucky’s sweet spot, until Bucky begins keening with pleasure, too. Those sounds are pushing Steve closer and closer to the edge. 

His cock, sliding through the velvety soft heat that is Bucky, is pulsing so hard it’s like it’s got its own heartbeat. Steve looks from Bucky’s length, purpled and swollen, to his face, so angelic, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, skin reddened with exertion, hair cascading back over his pillow, and the end is near. 

He can feel it, that tight coil of blissful passion, starting deep in his core and threatening to burst and fill his entire body. His legs are shaking, muscles spent, but he can’t stop yet. Not yet…not until he takes Bucky with him. He’s _got_ to be close. Then Bucky lifts his hips, trying to meet every drive that Steve makes, and that seals the deal. 

“Steve,” he croaks out. “Fuck…fuck me… I’m gonna come.” 

It’s the most stunning sight when he erupts, coating his own torso with his release. Steve plunges himself in as deeply as he can and stays there, grinding against Bucky’s hot, tight little ass, pumping his cock in and out in just tiny pulses as he hits his zenith and orgasms hard, coming inside his lover. Unending spasms of pleasure wrack his body, every muscle so tight it’s like one giant seizure, and he sobs out his relief and utter, absolute gratification. 

It seems to take forever to come down from that high, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind his slowness in pulling out. He’s lying on the bed looking pretty wrecked, messy and spent. Just like Steve feels. Eventually Steve does separate from him, and drags himself to the bathroom for a towel to clean up with. Bucky made a mess all over himself, but Steve’s the one who made the mess on his bed. Whatever, that’s what washing machines were for, right? 

After they have both cleaned up, Bucky has still hardly moved, and Steve is feeling quite drowsy. He lies down and curls up next to him.

“I wasn’t kidding about that standing up part,” Bucky murmurs. “I might need a minute.”

Steve chuckles softly. “Take all the minutes you want.” It’s just as nice this time, lying next to Bucky. He closes his eyes, meaning to rest them only for a moment… 

He wakes an hour later when he feels movement on the bed next to him and a hand on his upper arm. Bucky is already fully dressed, sitting next to him. 

“Hey…gotta go,” he whispers, running one hand down toward Steve’s forearm when he stirs. “No, don’t get up,” he adds, when Steve moves a little more. “I can let myself out.”

“But you can’t lock the door,” Steve says, a bit groggily. He sits up and rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

A smile flashes across Bucky’s face. “Me either. See you in the morning?”

“Yeah.” Steve yawns. “You go ahead, I’ll get the door in a sec.”

“Okay.” Bucky stands and is on the move. Steve hears the door open and shut a moment later. As much as he doesn’t want to leave his warm bed, fresh with the scent of Bucky in it, he does pad naked to the entrance to his apartment and lock it. When he returns to his bed and crashes, he sleeps solidly till the morning light wakes him. 

\--

Basketball that morning is fun as usual; Sam is off work so they have six players. This time Steve is on a team with him and Bucky, so he can’t find any excuse to manhandle him really, but it’s still good. And nobody makes any comments about him and Bucky, so it’s extra good. 

They don’t get to golf on Sunday because of other errands, but plan on making it up on Tuesday evening. Steve spends the remainder of the weekend doing mundane things like working out at the gym and working on his freelance projects. 

Monday morning when he gets to work, Maria is waiting for him in his cubicle, sitting at his desk. 

“Steve! Just the man I was looking for!” she declares in a bubbly voice. 

“I hope this isn’t about more furniture,” Steve groans, and sets his stuff down on his desk. 

Maria giggles. “No! But it is about the guy you brought with you to move my furniture,” she says mysteriously.

Steve flattens his lips together. “What did Tony tell you?”

“Nothing!” Maria responds, just a little too quickly. “Only that you two are not a couple, and I don’t have to worry about going alone to Sharon’s wedding.” 

Sitting down on the edge of his desk, Steve folds his arms together. “We agreed to be each other’s dates, Maria. You know I wouldn’t dump you at the last second.”

“I know,” she says, but sounds doubtful. “But are you telling me there’s _nothing_ going on between you two?”

“I wouldn’t say _nothing_ ,” Steve admits, and Maria looks excited. 

“I knew it!” she chirps. “Tell me everything.”

Steve shrugs. “There’s not that much to tell, really. It’s just casual. We’ve…been together.” He’s trying to play it off cool so Maria won’t suspect anything, and he is surprised by her next question. 

“So…how was he?”

“What?” Steve’s eyebrows hit the roof. 

Maria leans forward in his chair and lowers her voice. “You don’t have to give me any details…unless you want to.”

“Maria!” Steve is shocked. She’s never asked him anything like this before. “Why do you want to know?”

She looks abashed for a brief moment, then apparently decides if she’s in for a penny, she’s in for a pound. “Sorry…it’s just… you two are so hot together. If I could be a fly on the wall just once…” she shakes her head longingly. 

“MARIA!” Steve repeats, and his mouth falls open slightly. 

She plops back and bounces in the chair. “Come on, Steve, you gotta give me something. A girl can’t live on food and water alone, you know.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. It’s always the quiet ones you have to worry about. He had no idea… one, that Maria had it in her to ask, and two, that it's something she would be remotely interested in. He understands why some straight guys think two girls together is hot, though it doesn’t do much for him personally. He’s seen Girls Gone Wild before. Never did it occur to him that a straight woman might think two guys together is hot. Huh. Learn something new every day. 

“It’ll be just between us,” his co-worker states. She peaks over the top of the cubicle. “Don’t tell Tony I said any of that.”

“What? No, I won’t,” Steve assures her, and throws her a proverbial bone. “And…he was fantastic.”

Tony passes by his cubicle just then, so a smiling, squeaking Maria hops up out of Steve’s chair and heads back to her own desk, giving his shoulder a little squeeze when she passes him. Steve keeps his word and doesn’t share that conversation with Tony. It does get him thinking a lot about Friday night, though, and just how good Bucky was. 

Mondays sure pass slowly when you can’t concentrate on anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It cracks me up how ~~bloodthirsty~~ impatient people get for the smut, because I am the exact same way! Don't tease me, just give. me. the. smut. Props to anyone who knows what song the line "I want to feel you from the inside" is from. (it's one of my favorites)
> 
> Edited to add: couple of comments not safe for work!!!


	9. Everything Is Under Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An accident provides the opportunity Steve has been waiting for, to hear more about Bucky's past relationship. It also leads to Steve volunteering his services as dog sitter. Both leave Steve with some feelings he doesn't know what to do with, and the possibility that he's bitten off way more than he can chew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, no dogs were harmed in the making of this fic. :D

Chapter Nine 

When Bucky walks, his ass has the cutest little shimmy. Steve’s noticed it several times, including right now. Bucky is in front of him as they cross the parking lot of the golf course he and Sam go to most frequently. Even hauling golf clubs with him, Bucky’s got one sexy walk.

When Steve thinks about it, Bucky’s got one sexy _everything_. How can one person be so completely gorgeous, so genuinely nice, so imminently suitable for a boyfriend? What fool would have ended a relationship with him and let him slip through his (or her) fingers? He doesn’t even _know_ if Bucky’s breakup was with a male or a female. Not that it matters, he just wants to know what happened that has made him so set against another commitment. He really wants to ask. And really doesn’t want to ask. 

Because the more he gets to know Bucky, the more he likes him. He has to keep reminding himself not to get attached (like that’s possible). One day Bucky will have had enough of him, and move on. That’s a very painful thought, though, so Steve keeps it trapped in one tiny corner of his brain and tries not to let it out very often. It’s easier to just think about the sex, and about how much he loves kissing Bucky, and how much he loves the sound of Bucky’s laugh, the way he steps over every crack in the sidewalk, the way he tucks his hair behind his ear, only to have it fall back down a second later…

No, wrong. He’s not thinking about that stuff. _Stick to the physical, Steve. No squeezing, tight chest pain there._ He’s thinking about how much he enjoyed nailing Bucky. Yeah, that’s right. How magnificent it was, and how much he’d like to do it again. 

“So, you’re gonna go easy on me tonight, right?” 

Steve swallows and almost chokes himself. He didn’t say any of that out loud, did he? “What?”

Bucky turns back to look at him. “You’re going to go easy on me since this is my first time on a real golf course, right?”

Sighing inwardly in relief, Steve shrugs one shoulder. “Oh, sure! I’ll give you to at least the third hole to get acclimated.” He smiles and Bucky snorts at him.

“You’re a prince. What about those mulligans you were telling me about? How many of those do I get?”

Steve puts on a superior air. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. Mulligans are against the rules.”

“Whatever.” Bucky laughs and tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, which falls back out. Steve bites his lip and pretends he doesn’t want to touch his hair and slip it back again. 

They’ve reached the row where the golf carts are lined up. Bucky stops next to theirs and asks smartly, “Do I at least get to drive the cart?”

Steve blows air out through his lips noisily. “Hell no. Only _experienced_ golfers get to drive the cart. You need to concentrate on your game.” They both dump their clubs in the back and Steve hops into the driver’s seat, leaving his companion to take the passenger side. 

Bucky huffs in pretend anger and over enunciates a “ _fine_ ” before settling into the seat next to Steve, who can’t stop grinning. They are only doing nine holes since it is his first try, and Steve’s not actually planning on keeping score at all. This is just for practice. It’s a beautiful evening, not too terribly hot, with fluffy white clouds scattered across the sky. Great night to swing some clubs. 

They do a lot of talking about technique on the first couple of holes, and then Bucky seems to relax a bit. It helps that Steve lets him swing first, then tries to just pace next to him so they’re both shooting from similar distances. There is a lot of football talk as well, since the regular season is now under way. This past weekend and Monday night were the first games. Steve got off to a dismal start. Bucky’s QB went _off_ , scoring twice as many points as Steve’s entire team.

Bucky is lining up a shot and attempting to cover up a smile when he asks, “So how’d your team do this weekend?”

Steve presses his lips firmly together. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Bucky preens. “I don’t know if you know this, but my QB scored _five_ touchdowns. How many did yours score?” 

“Fuck off.”

Bucky guffaws loudly at that and continues to go after him. “So I was wondering if you could give me some advice on who to trade for, you being an expert and all.” He swings and makes a decent shot, then turns to face the blond, standing with arms crossed in front of his chest, silently glowering at him. 

“You are such a dick. What asshole’s idea was it to invite you to join our league, anyway?”

Bucky hoots with laughter. “I think Clint is the asshole you’re looking for.”

“Yeah, well I’m gonna need to have a little talk with him about being more selective.” 

Bucky just laughs some more and follows Steve to where his ball sits, several yards away. Steve pulls out a club and lines up his shot. “It’s a long season, you know,” he reminds Bucky, who grins cockily. 

“You’ll have plenty of time to _try_ to catch up to me, then.” 

Steve gives him a dramatic eye roll and drives, landing his ball on the green ahead. Bucky’s ball is just off the green, but Steve thinks he’s doing quite well so far. Two holes further in, Bucky shanks one into the tall grass off the fairway.

“Fuck.” Bucky comments sagely, and looks at Steve. “I need to find that ball.”

“Don’t bother, you’ll never see it in that jungle,” Steve recommends to him, but Bucky is shaking his head. 

“No, I left the rest of my golf balls in the car. That’s the last one I have!” 

Steve waves a hand at him. “I’ve got plenty.” He walks over to his golf bag, then hesitates. He’s got two kinds of balls. One is less expensive, the kind he uses when he and Sam are just dicking around, and the other is the really expensive kind that he loves and uses for important rounds. He vacillates for a split second, then unzips one of the pouches on his bag and pulls out one of the expensive balls. “This is the BEST ball ever made,” he states, holding it up like he just plucked a chicken egg out of a nest.

“Does it really make a difference what kind of ball you use?” Bucky asks honestly.

“Does it make a difference! Or course it does!” Steve insists. “These are awesome. Just try one.”

Maybe Bucky’s humoring him, but he takes the proffered ball and lines up, hitting a nice shot straight down the fairway this time. Okay, so that’s more technique than anything else, but Steve really does think his ball is better, so he’s going to take whatever he can. 

“See?” he says knowingly. 

Bucky appears thoroughly unconvinced, but continues to use that ball for the remainder of their time there. Steve’s pretty sure he’ll come around to his point of view. When Bucky sinks his last putt and plucks his ball out of the cup, Steve notices him turning it around in his hand to look at the name printed on the side, and can’t help a little smirk. 

Bucky sees him and tucks the ball into his golf bag. “Shut up, Steve.” 

Steve’s smirk gets bigger. 

\--

“I’m not in over my head, Sam.”

Sam Wilson, best friend there ever was, laughs in Steve’s face. “Right, all according to plan. Steve, I’ve known you for a long time, and I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what? I’m _interested_ in him. But everything is under control,” Steve insists, and stuffs some towels into the clothes dryer. They are both down in the laundry room of their building, a well-lit but slightly stuffy room with a few washers and dryers, a soap dispenser that you can catch full on a good day, and some laminate counter space along one wall for folding clothes. 

Sam drops a detergent pod into a washing machine. “Yeah, sure it is. When I’m interested in people, I pine for them twenty-four seven, too.”

“I don’t do that,” Steve grumbles. Maybe a little. Or a lot. But Bucky doesn’t want that. Steve can’t have that. So obviously he can stop himself from having those feelings; he’s not a child, after all. 

Sam gives him a look that clearly says _yes you do_ and seems to shift gears. “How did golf go Tuesday on the course?”

“Great!” Steve tells him, and shuts the lid on his dryer. “He’s doing really well.”

Sam pushes some buttons on the washing machine and it starts to fill. “Did you give him any of your favorite golf balls?”

Steve fiddles with the dryer setting and draws his eyebrows together. “That means nothing,” he says, giving Sam some side eye. 

“Bullshit,” Sam announces, smiling. “You’re in love with those balls.”

Steve stabs at the start button and turns to face his friend. “They’re just golf balls, Sam.”

Sam laughs. “Wasn’t talking about the _golf_ balls.”

Steve rolls his eyes and gives him a shove on the arm as he reaches for his laundry basket. “Ugggghhhh! Sam, you can’t talk like that. I can’t talk like that. I am NOT falling for him.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” 

\--

That was Thursday; two days later Steve is out jogging in the park, thinking about his shopping list. Yeah, right. He’s really thinking about Bucky. That morning’s basketball game was ultra hot, and not just because the temperature was up there. He got to guard his favorite player again and be guarded by his favorite player. Any day he can back his ass up right against Bucky’s groin with a perfectly legit excuse is a good day. 

Also, Peter delivered on the season tickets, so now they have to figure out how to divvy them up. Steve’s got a fool proof plan how to get to at least one game with Bucky. He’s going to bribe Thor to find out which games Bucky is interested in going to. Then all Steve has to do is make a move for those same games. Voila, they’ll just have to go together! Mentally he pats himself on the back. It’s a perfect plan. 

He’s thinking about how awesome it would be to go to a game with tall, dark and handsome as he gets in a quick run. Now that it’s evening and the temperature has cooled, it’s not so bad out. He’s gone about four miles through the winding trails and is on his way back when he sees Bucky and Zeus coming toward him. He slows to a walk as he approaches them and squats down, getting low to the ground. Zeus wags his tail like it’s on fire and pulls on his lead till he reaches Steve, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. 

“Hey!” Steve says to Bucky, and “Hey Zeus!” to his pet. He rubs his sides with both hands as the tiny dog wiggles and whines for attention.

Bucky looks down at them both and laughs. “Hi. Someone’s sure thrilled to see you.”

When Steve glances back up, there is such a soft look on Bucky’s face, it makes him melt. That dog means everything to him, and Steve is surprised to find that he is growing fond of the little guy, too. Maybe dogs aren’t so bad, aside from the whole cleaning up poop thing. 

“Still pretty hot for a run, isn’t it?” Bucky asks, wiping a drop of sweat from his temple. Steve’s been sweating bullets, of course, but he’s used to that. He just enjoys running, heat or no heat. But he also knows he’s red-faced and smelly, so now’s not an ideal time for a lengthy conversation. 

“It doesn’t bother me,” he says as he stands back up. “But I’d better keep going. You two have a good walk. See you at Thor’s later?” he confirms as he starts back up on his way. They’re supposed to head down there later on in the evening. 

“Yeah, catch you later,” Bucky throws over his shoulder at him, and they continue on in the other direction. 

Steve means to continue straight back to his apartment and hop into the shower, but he only gets thirty or forty yards down the trail when a sound from behind stops him dead in his tracks. It’s in the distance, but still unmistakable. It echoes to him, carried on the light wind; the distinct sound of snarling. A dog fight. His blood runs cold. _Zeus_. When he hears the second sound, that of a dog crying out in pain, he’s already turned around and is sprinting back toward the source of the noise. 

His feet carry him back in the other direction as fast as they can. _Not Zeus_. He makes it around the bend and sees it. A large dog, some kind of mutt (Steve’s not good with figuring out breeds), attacking Zeus. He’s got the much smaller dog around the neck, but lets go when Bucky punches at the side of his face. The mongrel snaps once at Bucky’s arm, then immediately goes for the small Dachshund again, grabbing him by the back leg and biting down. 

The noise Zeus makes is enough to bring tears to Steve’s eyes. He’s never heard an animal make such a pitiful cry. He’s made it to them and helps Bucky get the other dog off by smacking at it again. Its hair is coarse, and there are no tags around the neck. Maybe a stray. They both take a whack at it and are yelling loudly. Steve’s not even sure what he’s saying, if they are real words or just harsh syllables, but it works. Maybe the dog decided that since it was now two against one, his odds weren’t as good anymore. Steve doesn’t care, as long as Zeus is freed. Whatever the reason, the dog just runs off, back into the wooded section of the park. 

Steve lets him. He doesn’t seem hurt anyway, and they have much more important things to worry about. Zeus is lying on the trail, limp and bleeding from puncture wounds on his neck and back leg. He yips in pain when Bucky touches him, but he does _move_ a little, so Steve’s hopeful his spinal cord is undamaged. If that dog had shook him when he had him in his mouth, he could’ve broken his neck. Carefully Bucky picks him up in his arms and stands. 

“I’ll drive you,” Steve immediately assures him. Bucky turns to him; his face is stricken, but he nods and they start walking as fast as they dare, with Zeus cradled in his arms. He whimpers every few seconds, which Steve is glad for, despite how pathetic it sounds. At least he knows the dog is still alive. 

“My vet has after-hours emergency care.” Bucky’s voice is strained, but he’s keeping it together so far. There’s blood all over his checkered shirt. Probably it looks worse than it is, but it looks horrible. He prays Zeus doesn’t lose too much before they can get help for him. He’s worried, not only for him, but also the other unsuspecting dogs and dog owners inside the park.

Steve doesn’t run with his cell phone, but he can see Bucky’s is sticking out of his back pocket. He stares at it, unseeing. He doesn’t even know who he’s supposed to call to report a stray dog, but he doesn’t want this one attacking anyone else. “Who do we call to report that dog?” he asks breathlessly. 

“I don’t know, the police?” Bucky hazards a guess. “Animal control?” 

“We can let the police figure that out,” Steve agrees, but decides that can wait for now. He doesn’t have the phone number for the police programmed into his phone and suspects Bucky wouldn’t, either. They can google it later. They’ve reached the end of the trail, which leads right into the parking lot and the street. Their apartment building is only a short block away, and they arrive at their own lot quickly. Steve’s got his keys out of his pocket and pushes the button that unlocks his car doors. 

“I’ve got a clean beach towel in the back,” he tells him, popping the hatch and running around to the other side of the car to open the passenger side door. 

Bucky hesitates to climb in. “Do you want me to sit on it so we don’t get blood all over your seat?” 

Steve screws up his face. “It’s for Zeus. I don’t give a shit about the seat.” He grabs the towel and shuts the hatch, then climbs into the driver’s seat. Bucky has already gingerly maneuvered himself and Zeus into the car, too, so Steve holds the towel out to him. “Put some pressure on the worst bleed, if you can tell where that is.” God, he doesn’t want to look at all that red mess, or the back leg that hangs at a weird angle. It’s got to be broken. 

He just starts the car and drives. Bucky gives him terse directions. Otherwise they don’t talk, but Steve can see Bucky’s mouth moving as he whispers words of comfort to Zeus, who is still conscious and making soft whimpering cries. He looks so small and helpless, curled inside Bucky’s arms. Bucky is holding the towel down on his leg like Steve suggested, while his other hand strokes Zeus’s side softly. His eyes look…shiny. No tears have fallen, but they’re in there, waiting to spill. Steve tries not to see that, because if Bucky starts to cry, then Steve’s definitely going to cry next. His own eyes feel a little wet already, but he blinks the moisture away.

Fortunately, the veterinary clinic is nearby and they pull up to it shortly. The lot is pretty much empty because of the hour, so they park next to the door and speed walk in. Zeus is taken back to an examining room, while Bucky and Steve are left in the waiting room to languish. Bucky looks devastated, worn and stressed out, like Steve has never seen before. 

Never has he wanted to give him a hug, or a kiss on the top of the head, more than he does right now. He physically sits on his hands to stop himself, unsure if that’s a boundary he should cross. You would think someone you’ve been intimate with would be okay with a hug or a kiss for comfort, but he’s not sure he should show that much affection. Would it freak Bucky out? He’s lost in his head when he hears Bucky’s voice. 

“Steve.” Bucky is sitting next to him on a bench running along the wall. His head is back but turned in his direction. “Thank you.” 

“Thank goodness I was nearby. We got him here in time, Buck,” Steve says gently. He does reach over and grab Bucky’s knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “He’ll be okay.” Steve doesn’t know that the dog will actually be okay, of course, but he wants to offer _some_ sort of comfort to his friend. “Can I borrow your phone to call the police?”

Bucky hands it over and Steve googles the number for the police, then calls and reports the roaming dog in the park. He hands the phone back to Bucky when he’s done. 

After stuffing it back into his pocket, Bucky leans forward onto his knees and grinds his palms into his eyes. “This is my fault,” he says miserably.

“What?” Steve sit up straight. “How can you even say that?”

“When that dog came out of the underbrush and growled at us, I tried to bend down and grab Zeus, but I missed him. He _charged_ the other dog, protecting me, and I didn’t expect that.” He shakes his head and sits back again. “If I had been faster, I could have picked him up before anything happened.”

“It’s not your fault,” Steve insists. “It was a horrible accident.” He thinks for a moment. “Zeus really thinks he’s a big dog, doesn’t he.”

Bucky lets out a dry laugh. “Spirit of a Doberman in the body of a Dachshund.”

“It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself,” Steve assures him again.

They both fall silent. Bucky looks like a truck ran over him. Steve battles that instinct to smother him with hugs. He slips down the bench, closer to him, and takes a chance, rubbing his shoulder lightly. Bucky manages a wan smile, but doesn’t speak. Aside from the receptionist manning the front desk, they are alone in the waiting room. A small TV hung on the wall in the corner plays Wheel of Fortune. They sit in quiet contemplation for a bit, waiting. Bucky doesn’t seem into conversation right now, and Steve can’t think of anything appropriate to talk about anyway, so he watches the TV, looking for some diversion, and leaves Bucky alone with his thoughts. 

Steve’s thoughts are that the contestants on Wheel of Fortune must be dumb asses, because the saying is clearly “Back To Work”, and one of the dumbasses just bought the letter “F”, because really? Did he honestly think the first word, which has the “CK” already showing, would be the word “Fuck”? He is saved from watching further struggles of the contestants when the veterinarian appears from a door that leads to the back of the clinic. 

A forty-some woman with long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and a white lab coat sits down next to Bucky and speaks calmly to him. “Good news is, the x-ray of his spine is negative for fractures, and he’s moving his legs normally, except for the rear leg. It’s broken and will require setting. He’s lost blood from those puncture wounds, but none of them are serious, and his windpipe is intact. The leg is the worst of it.”

Bucky closes his eyes and heaves a sigh, visibly relaxing. “Thank you,” he tells her. 

She smiles slightly. “Do you know that animal that did this to him?”

Bucky shakes his head. “It was a stray dog at the park. He came at us out of nowhere.”

The vet frowns. “All of Zeus’s shots are up to date, so there shouldn’t be any worry about disease. I’ll come back out after we’ve finished treating him.” She rises and heads down the hall, disappearing into the back again. 

Steve gives Bucky’s knee another squeeze. “Great news!” he says happily, and Bucky gives him a relieved, tired smile. 

“Yeah.” He falls silent again for a moment, staring down at his bloodstained shirt. “Yeah.” Steve can’t see his eyes anymore, but hears the tiny, almost inaudible sob. 

“Bucky, hey, you okay?” Steve bends his head down low, next to his, and is put at ease when Bucky looks up right away. 

“I’m okay. Just…a little emotional.” 

Steve nods and sits back again. “Well, that was pretty scary. I know he means a lot to you.”

“You don’t know how much.” Bucky bites at his lower lip. “I got Zeus from a rescue shelter,” he shares in a low voice, and Steve watches his face carefully. He’s never heard this story. 

“Zeus was a rescue dog?” he prompts him, hoping Bucky will keep talking. 

He does. He nods first, clutching at the wadded up beach towel Steve gave him in the car. “It was really Zeus who rescued me, though. I don’t know where I’d be without him.” 

“Oh?” Steve says encouragingly. Now he’s intrigued.

“After my…boyfriend…and I broke up, I was in bad shape. For months,” Bucky confesses, looking at Steve uncertainly. “I had built up my entire world around him, and when he was gone, I was lost. I had nothing. I just…stopped caring about anything besides work. I was like a zombie.” 

He becomes quiet again, so Steve just waits, gives him time. His eyes are looking past him and into another world, a world from the past that Steve knows nothing about. Hurt and pain seem to be the most prominent emotions from that world, Steve observes sadly. After a minute of introspection, Bucky continues. “That’s when Darcy talked me into going to the shelter with her. She claimed it was because she wanted to adopt a cat, but I think really she wanted to get me in there.”

“So what happened?” Steve is leaning forward, elbows on his knees, intent on his companion. 

“I took one look at Zeus, sitting in a kennel and wagging his tail at me, with those bright little eyes, and I knew he would be going home with me.” Bucky smiles timidly. “He saved me, Steve. He gave me a reason to care about something again, when I was just going through the motions, pretending to be human.” 

“How long were you and your boyfriend together?” Steve makes a sideways cut with one hand. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

Bucky’s blue eyes bore into his. “Over eight years.”

Eight years. Steve stares. They must have started dating when Bucky was in his early twenties. That’s a long time to be in a relationship, only to have it fail... 

“Why did you break up?” he asks gently.

There is a slight pause before Bucky answers this one. “He was cheating on me.” He looks down at his shoes again, shaking his head, then goes on. “I was completely in love, and so gullible. When I found out, he admitted it wasn’t the first time. Or the second.” 

Steve sucks in a breath. _What a prick_ is his first thought. Steve’s been with plenty of guys over the years, but he never ran around behind anyone’s back, or pretended to be exclusive when he didn’t want to be. “That’s awful,” he breathes. “So you broke up with him?” 

Bucky nods. “He was shocked. He thought he had me so under his thumb that I would forgive him and take him back. He apologized a hundred times, but I knew he wasn’t sorry he did it. He was sorry he got caught. So I told him to get out.” He brings his eyes back up to Steve’s. 

“You were living together?”

Bucky nods. “It was the hardest thing I ever did. A part of me _wanted_ to take him back, to pretend it never happened. That’s how big a fool I was.”

Steve shakes his head this time. “Buck, no, that doesn’t make you a fool. ‘Love is blind’ is a saying for a _reason_. You were in love.”

Bucky laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah. And what did it get me?” He rubs his hand over his forehead. “That’s why I can’t do that again. I can’t…I can’t trust someone like that again.” He drops his hand to his thigh with a plop. 

“He didn’t deserve your trust,” Steve tells him quietly, glancing at the receptionist, who is busy behind the desk and not paying any attention to them. “He didn’t deserve you, Buck.”

Bucky regards him silently. “I’m glad we met, Steve. You’re a good friend,” he finally says. His eyes are on him again, so beautiful. So sorrowful. So…unsuspecting. Steve feels a sudden surge of something, oozing thick and dark inside his head…guilt? Guilt that he hasn’t been entirely truthful about his feelings. _It’s what Bucky wants_ , he tells himself. 

So he just nods. “I’m glad, too. You moving in here has been the best.” _If you only knew._

\--

They sit in silence again, but Bucky appears less stressed now that they know Zeus will be okay. Steve is more stressed, for a completely different reason. Bucky got burned, badly. No wonder he doesn't want to get involved emotionally with anyone. He invested a big chunk of his life in one person, and was betrayed. _Fuck_. Steve had better get used to the idea that friends with benefits is as far as this is going to go between them. His chest feels heavy, his stomach churning like crazy. He needs something to distract him from this line of thinking. 

Wheel of Fortune has given way to Jeopardy!, when he looks back up at the TV. Steve hates Jeopardy! because it makes him feel stupid. He’s wondering if he can change the channel when Bucky speaks up. 

“I hate this show. Makes me feel dumb.” He’s got his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. 

Sitting with a similar posture, Steve grins at him. “Me too.” 

Bucky scratches at his head. “I’m sorry you’ve had to hang around here so long. Do you need to go?”

Shaking his head, Steve denies that. “No, I don’t have to go anywhere. I’d rather wait and see Zeus.”

Bucky opens his mouth to speak again, but at that moment a female technician wearing scrubs that have cats printed all over them appears and beckons to them. “You can come back and see him now.”

They both hop up and eagerly follow her back to one of the exam rooms. Another tech is inside, similarly attired, with her arms around Zeus where he sits on the metal exam table. He looks very groggy but is awake, and wags his tail when he sees his master. There is a tiny, fiberglass cast around the stubby lower portion of his back leg, covering his paw. Some of the hair has been shaved from his thigh and his neck, and Steve can see stitches in more than one spot.

Bucky flys to his side and hugs him carefully. “Zeus! Hey buddy!” He bends and kisses him on the top of the head, and sounds so happy, it makes Steve smile. He sits down on the little bench next to the exam table, out of the way. 

“The cast will need to stay on at least six weeks,” the vet states. “We need to talk about the stitches. We can’t have him chewing on them, and he can reach the ones on his leg that are visible there.”

“Does he need to wear a cone around his head?” Bucky asks, but the vet shakes her head.

“We can’t place the cone because of the other stitches on his neck. It would rub right over them. Unless he can be watched all day to ensure he doesn’t pull out those stitches, I recommend he be boarded here until they are ready to be taken out.”

“And when would that be?” Bucky inquires warily.

“Ten days to two weeks. I know that’s a long time to board, but we have staff who can monitor him.”

“Two weeks!” 

Steve feels for Bucky. Clearly he doesn’t like this idea. Bucky is looking down at Zeus, who is looking right back up at him with a glassy-eyed expression that says, “Can we go home yet?”

The vet sees his reluctance. “You could take him if you have a job that would allow you to work from home, or other family members who could watch him for you.”

Bucky shakes his head sadly. “I can’t take that much time off work right now, and neither can my family.” He passes a hand over his jaw, frustrated. 

“Darcy?” Steve asks tentatively, thinking maybe she could keep Zeus with her at Bucky’s office.

There is another shake of Bucky’s head. “She isn’t even going to be here this week, she’s away visiting her sister.”

Work from home. Steve doesn’t even think about it before opening his mouth again. “I can watch him.”

Bucky and the vet both turn and look at him. “Really?” Bucky asks, and the hope in his voice strengthens Steve’s resolve. But Bucky seems to have second thoughts then. “Wait, Steve, that’s a lot to ask of you. It’s too much.”

“No it’s not,” Steve insists. “I can work from home pretty easily, and I want to help.” 

Both of those statements were true. Steve can rearrange his schedule and square it away with his boss without that much difficulty, and the thought of leaving Zeus here and having Bucky go home empty handed is an unpleasant one. No matter how nice a kennel it is, it’s still a kennel, filled with strangers, and probably not a lot of one on one attention. Steve wouldn’t like to be kenneled, so he’s guessing Zeus wouldn’t like it either. And sad Bucky makes for sad Steve, too. He doesn’t want to see sad Bucky.

Relief floods the brunet’s face when he realizes Steve is sincere, and he won’t have to leave his dog in a boarding kennel for weeks. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” he gushes. 

“It’ll be fun,” Steve declares. “Give me and Zeus some man to dog bonding time.” 

“Alright then, it’s settled,” the vet says efficiently. “We’ll have his medications and directions for care ready for you shortly.

She leaves; one of the techs bandages Zeus up and the other checks them out. They have a bag with two pill bottles in it, bandages, and pages of instructions. Steve carries the bag, while Bucky carries Zeus back out to the car. 

They make it home without problems. Steve accompanies Bucky to his door, fishing his key out of the front pocket Bucky indicates, enjoying digging into his shorts probably a little more than he should have. He unlocks the door and opens it, allowing Bucky to step in first. He’s never seen his apartment yet, and takes it all in while Bucky gets Zeus settled down on a blanket on the couch. 

_No axes_ , he thinks to himself. Sam will be disappointed that his theory is wrong. Bucky’s place has a similar set-up to his own. He’s got modern furniture with clean lines, no clutter at all, with the exception of some dog toys on the floor, and enough artwork on the walls for it not to look like a bachelor decorated the place. _Darcy? Becca?_ he wonders idly. 

Once Zeus is settled and Bucky turns back to Steve, he again notices all the blood on his shirt. “I can stay with Zeus if you want to go take a shower and clean up,” he offers.

“Would you mind?” Bucky seems thankful for the chance, so Steve drops onto the couch next to the black dog. He seems pretty sleepy, probably from the medicine they gave him at the vets office, but it won’t hurt to have eyes on him anyway. 

“You go ahead,” Steve says.

It is then that Bucky realizes what condition Steve is in, too. “Crap, you never even got to shower off after your run! I promise I’ll be fast,” he pledges, and walks off down the hall. 

Steve watches him go, then looks down at Zeus. There is a barely detectable flip of his tail, and those eyes dimmed by the drugs. “I’m sorry Zeus, I know it hurts.” He pets the undamaged, sleek fur of his back and settles back on the couch. He can hear the water start to run in the shower, and has to use superhuman strength not to think about how Bucky is naked in there, soaping up his tanned and toned body. He sighs and picks up the remote control. 

After some channel surfing, Steve settles on Star Wars. He has a lot to think about that he doesn’t really want to think about. The TV helps take his mind off naked Bucky Barnes, ultimate soul mate material and sex partner, who is unwilling to trust anyone enough to commit to. That’s a lot to process, when it’s pretty much the first time you yourself have ever wanted to commit to anyone. 

Zeus is zonked out next to him. He hasn’t even sniffed at his stitches yet, much less bitten at them. True to his word, it doesn’t take very long before Bucky appears again, dressed and with damp hair around his face. 

“You wanna go grab a shower now, Steve?” 

He’s got a towel that he’s drying his hair with, and he smells so freaking good, it’s all Steve can do to just nod dumbly and not grab him around the waist and start making out with him. 

“Zeus is pretty tired out,” he informs him as he stands. “I don’t think I’m going to go down to Thor’s, it’s getting late now.” They had been at the veterinarian clinic for more than two hours, and Steve’s not really in the mood for company other than Bucky’s. 

“Yeah, I saw some texts when I got out of the shower, asking where I am. Your phone probably is loaded with them, too. I told Thor what happened, and obviously I’m not going down either. I feel kind of drained anyway.” 

Steve nods and makes his way to the door. “Okay if I come back tomorrow and see how the patient is doing?”

The smile that lights up Bucky’s face does a lot to brighten Steve’s mood. “Sure! We can talk about Monday then.” He steps toward the door as well. “Steve, really, I want to thank you for doing this for me. I don’t know how I can repay you, but I will.” He is standing next to him, fidgeting and looking awkwardly at him, like maybe he’s thinking about a hug, too, but not coming any closer.

 _Fuck it_. Boundary or no boundary, Zeus could have died tonight and Steve wants to give Bucky a goddamn hug. He pulls him in and is immediately glad he did so, because Bucky positively melts against him, arms around his back, sinking in all the way so their chests are pressed against each other’s and Bucky’s chin is on his shoulder. And it feels better than if he’d just won a lottery. So warm. And right. And perfect. And he’s not even thinking about sex. He’s only thinking about how his own chest feels so full of…something…that it might burst.

Steve breathes out and closes his eyes. “I’m just glad Zeus is going to be alright,” he says, then withdraws before the hug has a chance to get weird, since really he wants to keep holding him until tomorrow morning. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” 

Bucky is smiling at him as he pulls open the door. “See you tomorrow.”

Steve steps out the door. _I am so screwed._


	10. Everything Is Not Under Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has some uncontrolled feels. Sam helps him deal with said feels, but he's still got a shload of unresolved issues. Dog-sitting duty starts, and Bucky shows his appreciation for what Steve is doing for him. And in return, Steve shows Bucky some appreciation for...his appreciation. Hey, It makes sense to them.

Chapter Ten

“Everything is _not_ under control!” Steve slumps into Sam’s door frame as soon as he opens it. “I’m in over my head, Sam. So fucking over my head I can’t even see the horizon.”

“Breathe, Steve. Ya gotta breathe.” Sam steps to the side and allows his best friend to enter his space.

Steve walks in and crashes down on Sam’s couch in a heap. 

Sam follows and sits next to him. “Can I get you anything? Defibrillator? Crash cart?”

“Guillotine, blindfold?” Steve jokes morosely. He sinks his elbows down onto his knees and his shoulders sag. 

Clapping him on the back, Sam tries to comfort him. “Come on, tell me about it. It can’t be all _that_ bad.”

After Steve had finished showering, he couldn’t wait any longer and sought out the one person he trusts the most to talk to. Fortunately, Sam had just gotten back from Thor’s place, answered his desperate text and invited him over post haste. Steve sits up and tells him about the events of the evening. As he goes over the story, Sam is, of course, concerned about Zeus, since Thor didn’t really get many details, but as Steve goes on and relates his other conversation with Bucky, Sam’s face changes from one of worry to one of understanding. 

Steve finally draws a deep breath. “I probably shouldn’t have told you all of that. It wasn’t easy for him to talk about.”

Sam nods. “I promise you, I won’t repeat it to anyone.”

Steve’s eyebrows lift. “Not even Nat?”

“Not even Nat.” Sam shakes his head. “So tell me why this has you so bent out of shape.”

“You know why,” Steve answers glumly.

Sam shifts his weight and folds his hands in his lap. “Yeah, I know why. I want to hear you say _you_ know why.” His voice is gentle, not harsh. No hint of _I told you so_ in it. 

Steve? Well, Steve struggles. Identifying what he’s feeling would force him to face the heartbreaking fact that it may remain forever unrequited. He’s not quite there yet. “I…like him a lot.”

Sam waits patiently.

Steve tries again. “I…have feelings for him.” 

Sam nods. “Getting warmer. What kind of feelings?”

Steve’s eyes wander to the ceiling. “Good feelings?”

He loses it, hands flailing when Sam lets out a snort. “What difference does it make, Sam?” He answers his own question. “None! That’s what!”

“It does make a difference,” Sam insists quietly. “Because you need to be able to verbalize it to _him_.”

“Are you crazy? Did you even hear what I said? There’s _no chance_ for me. For us. None.” Steve deflates and seems to shrink in on himself. “All I want is a chance,” he mumbles under his breath, more to himself than to Sam.

Sam doesn’t give up. “If he had ‘good feelings’ for you, wouldn’t you want to know about them?”

Steve’s head shakes. “Yes, but that’s because I _reciprocate_ them, Sam. He _doesn’t_.”

"You don’t actually know what his feelings for _you_ are. You only know he has trust issues,” Sam points out astutely. 

Steve is undeterred. “It’s one and the same if there’s no possibility of more.” 

“He’s been hurt. That doesn’t mean you should give up on him.” 

“I’m not…” Steve pauses in frustration and tries to organize his thoughts. “I want to be around him all the time. That’s not going to change. But at the same time it hurts, thinking that it won’t be more.”

“Don’t be so impatient, for crying out loud. If you don’t want to tell him how you feel yet, then at least give him some time to figure out what he’s feeling.”

There is another pause as Steve considers this. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out to look at the screen, pulling up a text message. He looks at it and smiles, then holds it up for Sam to see. It is a picture of Zeus, sleeping belly up with his casted leg sticking up into the air, on what Steve assumes is Bucky’s bed (he hasn’t gotten to see that yet). Underneath it is a message. “ _So this is happening. Thank you._ ”

Steve groans. “He’s so fucking _amazing_ , Sam. I just want to make him _happy._ ”

Sam’s head jerks upward, from the phone to Steve’s face. He smiles widely. “Wow,” he mouths the word silently. “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you say something like that, Stevie. If that’s what you want, then go do it. The rest will eventually take care of itself.” 

“Just make him happy.” Steve chews on those words as he slides his cell phone back into his pocket. “Yeah. Just keep it simple, right?”

Sam nods. “Right.” 

\--  
Before Steve leaves that night, he and Sam make golf plans; Steve assumes golf for him and Bucky will be out for a couple of weeks. The next day he does text Bucky to see if he can come down for a bit. After receiving an enthusiastic “Yes!!” (with two exclamation points) he walks over and knocks on his door.

He is greeted immediately by his neighbor, clad in gym shorts and a t-shirt that make Steve’s eyes bulge out of his head. Damn, the man is built. It’s hard to decide where to look first, his chest or his thighs. His eyes are drawn away, though, by a sharp, excited bark. He looks over to the couch where Zeus sits, wriggling like a fish out of water. He doesn’t jump down off the couch but waits for Steve to come to him, as if his bark was a command: “Come see me!”

Steve feels a grin spread across his face. “He looks much better today!” he exclaims to Bucky, who also smiles broadly. 

“He’s _so_ much better! It’s like the stitches don’t bother him at all.” 

Steve has reached the couch and sits down next to the little dog, petting him. Zeus tries to lick his arm, then decides pets are better than anything else and collapses on his side for a belly rub, whining in happiness. Bucky sits one cheek of his butt down on the arm of the couch at his dog’s side. 

“He’s not doing much walking around because of the cast, but that’s okay, he’s not really supposed to. When we go outside he basically just does his business and then we come back in.”

Steve is reminded of that one unpleasant job. “Yeah, you’ll have to show me what to do.” His nose wrinkles subconsciously. 

Bucky starts off with a “Steve,” but gets cut off prematurely by the blond, who already knows what he’s going to say.

“If you thank me one more time, I’m going to smack you upside the head,” he says in a sugary sweet voice, and laughs. “I don’t mind, honestly.”

Bucky looks at him dubiously but keeps quiet, smiling. They go over the directions for medication and bandaging, and decide Bucky will bring over a roll of bags for outdoor use, so Steve doesn’t have to come down here to get them all the time. 

After that it’s a simple matter of Steve returning to his own apartment… and being hit with unexpected visits from his other friends. First it’s Thor and Clint, who come bearing a present. 

“This is for you,” Clint reveals, thrusting the box with a red bow tied around it at his stomach.

“So we thought when the two of you didn’t show at my place last night, you were probably in the sack somewhere together,” Thor announces saucily.

“Instead, you were helping save his dog. Good on you, man.” Clint claps him on the shoulder and walks past him.

“We thought you might want this. It’ll help you out with Bucky,” Thor says in an innocent voice, but they are both smiling, so Steve automatically assumes the worst.

He holds the box gingerly but doesn’t open it yet. “It’ll _help me out?_ ” he asks suspiciously.

“Yeah, you know,” Clint insists. “While you’re taking care of Zeus.”

“Which, by the way, is a very noble thing,” Thor tells him as they all sit down in Steve’s living room. 

“Yes it is!” Clint agrees. “No good deed goes unrewarded.” He motions to the box. “This will make you irresistible to Bucky. We promise.”

Steve is even more suspicious now, but slides the red ribbon off of the box and takes off the lid. Nestled inside some tissue paper is a white nurse’s uniform, complete with short skirt and a white hat with a red cross on the front. Steve holds up the hat and cuts his eyes to his guests. “Seriously?” he says in scorn.

Clint and Thor have dissolved into giggles. 

Steve drops the hat like it’s a bee’s nest. “Why do you even have this?” 

“Don’t you remember that costume party we went to a few years back?” Clint reminds him. “Thor had it on, and it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Thor looks down his nose at him. “Hey, I was _killing it_ in that dress.”

 _Oh yeah_. Now Steve remembers. Thor _was_ killing it in that dress. That was a great party. Steve went dressed as a soldier. And as he recalls, he got picked up and laid in that soldier outfit, too. 

He pushes the box away from him like it might be infected with something. “Errr, thanks but no thanks, guys. Think I’ll stick with regular clothes.”

“Aw, come on!” Clint whines playfully. 

“Suit yourself,” Thor says, eyes twinkling. “One piece of advice though?”

Steve lifts his eyebrows, waiting.

Thor’s face is solemn. “Don’t step in poop,” he says with gravity. 

Next to him, Clint whimpers in more laughter.

“Thanks, Thor. That’s very helpful,” Steve states sarcastically, giving him a shove on the shoulder. “Zeus and I will be sure to leave you both some presents at your patio doors,” he teases, as his friends rise to go. 

Thor laughs, while Clint frowns. “Don’t let Zeus lift his leg on my plants, Steve.” He points at him when Steve bursts into laughter. “I have that soil carefully pH balanced, you know.” 

\--

Steve’s next surprise visitor is Peter, who takes him by both shoulders when he opens his door and gives him a firm squeeze. Peter is a big man, with a muscular frame made stronger by his love for physical activity. He’s got a grip that could break bones. 

“Steve, you’re a good egg,” he states. “I’ve just been over to see Bucky, and he told me all about your heroic act, helping him save Zeus.”

Steve rubs his shoulder, wondering if that will bruise, as he lets Peter in and they both sit down. He’s a little confused; he’s not used to him being so _nice_ and complimentary. Then Peter opens his mouth again, and turns back into Peter.

“Don’t you know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, not his dog? And how does Zeus feel about you banging his dad? Have you two had a talk and come to some sort of agreement? You promise to bring him extra chew bones or something?” he grins devilishly.

Steve rolls his eyes and ignores that. “Did you come down here just to harass me, Peter? If you came for my list of football game preferences, I don’t have it just yet.” He’s about to go on when Peter shakes his head, lips pressed together. 

“Don’t need it, son. Already told Bucky which ones you were interested in.”

“What?” Steve’s heart jumps. But his perfect plan! “How could you know which ones? What did you tell him?”

“Same ones on _his_ list. What a coincidence that was.” The sly smile reappears on his face.

Steve blinks and stares, then grins crookedly, feeling a warm blush creep over his cheeks. 

“You’re welcome!” Peter teases merrily. 

“Thanks, Peter,” Steve mumbles into his chest, pleased.

Then Peter ruins the moment again by sticking his feet up on Steve’s coffee table and mocking him. “By the way, your fantasy team _sucks_. I’m gonna kick your ass this year.”

\--

Monday morning comes and Steve is ready for action. He’s got it all planned out; he can work in his office and Zeus can sleep on the guest bed in the same room with him. He can keep his eyes on him, no problem. Zeus and Bucky turn up on his doorstep right on time. Bucky’s got a bag with him that he lays on the kitchen counter as they pass by. His dog is alert and wiggly in his arms, requiring Steve to pet him several times as he leads them into the guest bedroom. Bucky sets him down carefully and turns to Steve.

“There’s medicine, extra bandages, and bags out there for you. Also, his favorite ball,” Bucky states matter-of-factly. 

“His favorite…what?” Steve looks from Zeus to Bucky and back to Zeus again. That isn’t part of the plan. “What do I do with the ball?”

Bucky laughs a little. “Don’t worry, he’s not going to run around all over with it. He’ll probably just sit and chew on it from time to time.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve relaxes.

“He should go out every few hours, just to be safe.”

“No problem,” Steve affirms, rubbing his hands together. 

“You’re sure you can handle this, right?” Bucky asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. 

“Positive!” Steve belts out. How much trouble can one little dog be? It’ll be a piece of cake. 

“Okay then.” Bucky kneels down next to his dog on the bed, gives him a kiss and scratches his ears. “You be a good boy for Steve now, you hear?” 

Zeus makes a low whining sound as if to say “ _I’m always a good boy_ ,” and Bucky stands to leave. 

“If you have any questions or need anything, text or call me. I’ll keep my phone handy,” Bucky reminds, him, heading for the door. 

Just when Steve thinks he’s going to get out of this without Bucky thanking him yet again, his head pokes back around the door frame. “And thanks, Steve,” he smiles as Steve groans. 

“Go to work! We’ll be fine!” Steve waves him off and Bucky disappears.

Steve hears his front door shut and looks down at the small black dog, sitting on the bed so innocently.  
“Won’t we?” he asks him. Zeus’s tail thumps loudly on the mattress. 

\--

Steve has been working on his laptop for about fifteen minutes when the first round of whining starts. Zeus is looking at him, head cocked to one side. 

“What do you need? Bucky said you just went outside before you came here.” Steve ponders silently for a moment. “You want your ball?” 

Ears perk up at the word “ball”, so Steve guesses that’s what he wants. He goes into the other room and retrieves it from the bag; an old, worn tennis ball, the fuzz matted down from use. He gives it to Zeus, who starts chewing on it vigorously.

“Problem solved,” Steve says to himself, and starts work again. 

Ten minutes later, more whining. Steve swivels around in his chair. Zeus has abandoned the ball and is laying at the edge of the bed, staring at Steve once more. 

“Huh.” They stare at each other. “What do you want?” Remarkably, there’s no answer. Steve thinks some more. Zeus stares some more. Why isn’t he taking a nap? Bucky said he usually naps most of the time. Steve snaps his fingers. “Blanket? I bet you want a blanket to sleep on,” he states, remembering Bucky had one on the couch when they brought Zeus home from the veterinary hospital. 

He hops up and runs to his linen closet, fetching a nice, soft fleece stadium blanket. When he sets it down on the bed, Zeus immediately walks on top of it and turns around in two or three circles, getting comfortable. 

“Ahh!” Steve says in triumph. Another correct guess. This dog-sitting stuff isn’t bad. He waits till Zeus settles down on the blanket, curled up in a ball but with one casted leg sticking out, then turns around and starts working again. 

This time it takes thirty minutes, and there’s a sound from behind him. When he turns, Zeus is biting at his stitches.

“NO! Zeus, no!” Steve says firmly, and Zeus puts his head back down. 

A minute later, same sound. Steve turns again. “Zeus! No!” 

The tiny dog stops, looks at Steve, and puts his head down on his paws. Steve watches him for a few seconds, and when it appears he’ll leave the stitches alone, turns back around to his desk. 

There is a soft whine from behind him. “Zeus,” Steve sighs. “What is it _now_?”

The answering whine does nothing to illuminate Steve. “You’ve had breakfast. You’ve been out. You have your ball, and a blanket to sleep on. The only thing you don’t have is me,” he says jokingly.

Only problem is, when he says it, Zeus barks sharply once and lifts his head. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve shoots back. “I can’t come lie down with you, boy. I have work to do.”

The whining grows louder. “Zeeuuuuuuuusss,” Steve whimpers. “I really have work to do. Quiet down, please?”

Zeus has other ideas, and they don’t include quieting down. Eventually Steve gives up, stomps over to the bed, and lifts Zeus, blanket and all, up into his arms. He walks back to his own chair, sits down, and plops Zeus and the blanket down onto his lap. It’s awkward and slow to try and use the computer in this manner, but Zeus is wagging his tail so hard it’s beating against Steve’s stomach sounding like helicopter rotors. 

Steve heaves another sigh. “Seriously?” he looks down at the tiny brown eyes, looking back up at him so happily. Zeus barks once and puts his head down like he’s going to take a nap. Steve angles his chair a little bit sideways so he can reach the computer mouse with one hand, and sets the keyboard on the edge of the desk so he can sort of reach it with the other. 

They stay in this position for the next three hours. Zeus doesn’t make another peep. When it’s approaching lunch time, Steve stretches his arms up over his head. His companion, who had been sleeping soundly the entire time, wakes and looks up at him, ears perked. 

“Wanna go outside?” Steve asks, and gets more tail wagging. 

“Guess that’s a yes,” he says, and picks him up. Steve’s left leg is dead asleep. He leaves the blanket on the bed and hobbles to the kitchen for a bag, with Zeus cradled in his arms. His left leg now feels like ten thousand pins are sticking into it. “Owwwwwwww.” 

He carries Zeus down and outside to the courtyard. After he does his business and Steve’s leg returns to normal function, they come back inside for lunch. Or rather, Steve has lunch, while Zeus sits on the couch where Steve deposited him and chews on the ball some more. After lunch, they return to the guest room. Steve’s phone buzzes with a new text message from Bucky. He glances at the screen where the phone sits on the desk.

_“How’s it going?”_

Steve tries setting Zeus down on the bed again, to no avail. This time the whimpers start immediately. 

“Oh, come on, for real?” Steve says in defeat. Zeus wags his tail. Steve unplugs his laptop and takes it and the mouse into the living room, setting both down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Then he runs back to the bedroom and picks up Zeus, who was waiting at the edge of the bed impatiently, and the blanket, and his cell phone. 

He carries his load over to the couch, sits down and puts his feet up on the coffee table. The blanket goes on his lower legs. So does Zeus, who hops on his three good legs and drags the fourth, until he can sit lengthwise on Steve’s long legs. After Steve pulls the laptop up onto his own thighs, he grabs his phone and takes a picture, sending it to Bucky.

Bucky sends back a message immediately. _“Is he sitting on your legs while you work?”_

Steve grimaces. _“Yes. Does he do this a lot?”_ he taps back.

Again the response is immediate. _“While I watch TV, yes. I don’t sit at a computer much.”_

Steve looks down at Zeus again. He’s sound asleep already, breathing deeply and evenly. _You’re lucky you’re cute,_ he thinks, and types a message back to Bucky. _“Guess this is our work position.”_ He hits the send button and thinks, _you’re lucky you’re cute, too._

The rest of the day passes without incident. Zeus and Steve have reached an understanding. As long as Zeus gets to sit on Steve’s lap, no problems. They have just come back in from the courtyard when Bucky knocks on Steve’s door. Steve leaves Zeus on the couch and answers it. Bucky enters, carrying a large, white paper bag with him. 

“What’s that?” Steve asks curiously.

“Dinner,” Bucky answers. “It’s the least I can do. I hope you like Pad Thai.”

“I love Pad Thai!” Steve responds, a large smile lighting up his face. He wasn’t expecting this at all. He closes the door behind Bucky and heads to the kitchen. “You can set that down on the counter there,” he directs him, pointing at the peninsula and rounding the side of it to grab drinks. 

Zeus is demanding attention from his owner, dancing and whining from his spot on the couch, so after setting the bag down, Bucky walks over there without delay. Several pets and hugs later, he looks back at Steve, who has gotten two containers out of the bag and set them side by side in front of two barstools. 

“What do you want to drink?” Steve asks efficiently, bustling around for real silverware so they don’t have to use the cheap plastic sporks that came with the food. 

Bucky walks back over from the couch and slides onto a barstool. “Got any iced tea?”

Steve nods and opens the fridge. That’s how it starts. By unspoken agreement, every day from now on while Steve is dog-sitting, Bucky brings in dinner and they eat together. Sharing meals brings a whole new level of closeness. They never run out of things to talk about. Steve, in fact, has just the opposite problem. He wants to tell Bucky everything, and learn everything about him. Every story Bucky tells, every tidbit of information he gleans from their talks, only makes Steve fall harder. 

And makes him slightly miserable. Tethering himself more emotionally to Bucky is at once dizzying and distressing. He wants to be closer. And wonders why he’s punishing himself. It would be easier if he just kept their conversations light, full of small talk. Instead he shares his deepest thought and dreams, and revels in it and despairs in it simultaneously. He’s opening himself up to a person who may unknowingly crush his heart and soul, after all. It’s the biggest risk he’s ever taken with anyone in his life.

Not that he tells any of _that_ to Bucky. And every smile Bucky bestows on him is worth it. Every bit of himself that Bucky shares with Steve in return is worth it. Steve entered into this with his eyes wide open, and he respects Bucky too much to try and force a relationship he doesn’t want. So he keeps quiet, burying those emotions down deep whenever Bucky is around. 

He does confide a lot in a certain small dog. Zeus is a pretty good listener, and doesn’t blab. Steve gets texts from Bucky daily, asking how things are going, and discusses them with Zeus. He also sends pictures of Zeus sleeping on his lap, or chewing on his ball, or hopping around in the courtyard, to keep Bucky informed. 

“Zeus, Bucky wants to know what kind of toppings I like on my pizza,” he tells him on the fifth day. He’s got his phone in his hand, and Zeus in his lap. “It’s really nice of him to keep bringing me dinner,” he shares. “Maybe tonight I’ll show him how much I appreciate that.”

Zeus looks up at him, with a bit of tennis ball fuzz hanging out of his mouth. 

“So,” Steve says, looking down at him, “You don’t mind that, right? Us being together, I mean. We’re cool?” 

Zeus smacks his lips, and the neon green fuzz falls out of his mouth. Steve takes that as a yes.

\--

After dining on fantastic, deep dish pizza with extra cheese and more meat than a deli sandwich, Steve is feeling extremely satisfied. Bucky sits next to him on the couch, with Zeus sleeping on his blanket on the other side. They ate their pizza while watching a baseball game; it’s only in the third inning, but Steve doesn’t give a shit. He’s more interested in getting around some bases with the man next to him. 

Just as he’s contemplating the best way to vocalize those thoughts, Bucky stands with his empty plate and glass, and heads to the kitchen. Steve stands and follows him to the sink, dumping his plate and glass into the basin to worry about later. Bucky turns on the tap to rinse his off, but Steve promptly turns the water back off and takes the dish and glass right out of his hands. They soon join Steve’s dishware at the bottom of the basin.

Bucky turns to him in surprise. Steve leans one hip into the counter and lets his eyes wander down his jean-clad form and back up. His cock is starting to get interested, more so when Steve thinks about all the ways he _could_ thank Bucky.

“So I’ve been trying to think of a way to thank you for dinner every night this week,” he states.

Bucky starts to argue, predictably, and gets cut off. “You don’t have to…”

“Shut up and let me thank you,” Steve retorts. Actually he isn’t _trying_ to think of a way to thank him; he’s already come up with about a dozen ideas, and decided on exactly what he wants. And that’s to get his lips around that cock of his again. Last time made him so fucking horny, he just can’t wait to do it a second time. 

“So what’d you come up with?” Bucky asks, looking pretty interested himself. 

Positioning himself in front of his lover, Steve backs him against the sink and slides one arm around his waist to hold him. The other hand finds the outline of his cock, which is just starting to firm up. As soon as Steve’s fingers touch him he can feel the jump it takes. He presses his palm flat over the bulge and rubs slowly up and down.

“Just this.” His eyes are down, watching himself stroke Bucky’s blossoming erection, until Bucky takes his chin in his hand and lifts it.

“I like the way your mind works.”

Bucky’s voice is low and breathy, and so sexy. Blue eyes meet blue eyes. Steve sucks a breath in. Goddamn, those eyes. Feels like they can strip him bare in a millisecond. Those secrets he thinks he’s keeping concealed? Fully exposed. Bucky closes the distance between them and kisses his lips, just softly, lips just barely parted, planting a series of light kisses on Steve that raise the temperature in the kitchen by twenty degrees. Bucky’s lips are so soft and plush, he wouldn’t object to those kisses all night long. 

Bucky’s hand slides around to the back of his neck, fingers raising goosebumps on Steve’s flesh, then digging into the hair at the nape of his neck when he deepens their kiss. Steve opens up to him willingly, allowing Bucky’s tongue to delve inside, tasting him thoroughly. He loves the way Bucky kisses, like the only thing in the universe that means anything at all is Steve.

He loves it, but doesn’t forget what his hand was up to, either. All the while, he keeps working his fingers and palm over Bucky’s shaft, cradling it and coaxing it to life. The outline of it is hard and prominent. It thickens and pushes out obscenely against his jeans, until Steve can’t stand it anymore. He rips open the button of Bucky’s fly, tears down his zipper and shoves his hand inside his pants. Bucky moans into his mouth but doesn’t stop kissing him. 

Their mouths are moving on one another’s as frenetically as Steve’s hand was moving on his crotch. Now that he’s got those restrictive pants undone and his hand inside, he can touch the head of his cock and slick himself up on the pre-come leaking from the tip. That wet, silky feeling on the pads of his fingers makes him eager to drop to his knees and taste it. 

He spends another minute stroking that hard cock, now jutting out away from Bucky’s body with more freedom. Bucky’s tongue is rammed down his throat, kissing so deeply it’s hard to get air. Steve pulls back, lips swollen and glistening, and indulges in his desire to suck Bucky off. Dropping to the floor silently, he wrenches Bucky’s jeans and underwear down off of his hips with a series of determined yanks. It’s almost an attack, and he manages it swiftly. One minute he was standing, and in the next minute he’s gotten Bucky half naked and engulfed inside his mouth, sliding hot lips and hotter mouth around the thick length, taking him in deep.

Bucky makes a sound that is a cross between a whimper and a shout when Steve swallows him down. Both his hands are on the back of Steve’s head, holding him close. He doesn’t need to. Steve is aggressively sucking on his cock and hollowing his cheeks around it, sliding it in and out, determined to be the reason Bucky screams out his ecstasy tonight. 

“Oh God, Steve,” Bucky cries out. “Please, baby, I need…” he trails off with a low groan when Steve wraps his tongue around the tip and pulls off wetly, suckling the head. 

He curls his fingers around the base of his cock and fists him, stroking him masterfully, looking up at Bucky so he can talk to him. “Tell me what you need.” 

“Please, I wanna fuck your mouth, your perfect fucking mouth,” Bucky begs, looking down at him and biting at his lower lip. Steve can’t help a wry smile.

Did he just think the other night how he likes to be in control when he’s down on his knees? Well, fuck that. Right at this moment, the idea of Bucky pumping his thick, long dick in and out of his mouth is so erotic, he can hardly stand it. His eyes are on Bucky’s, thumb pushing into the slit at the head of his dripping, gorgeous cock, when he nods slowly and opens his mouth wide to take him back in. 

Bucky’s breaths are rapid and shallow, one hitching in his chest when Steve gives his assent. He slips one hand forward, touching Steve’s bottom lip before he guides his cock back in, moaning softly in sync with the motion. 

Steve closes his lips around his length tightly but doesn’t move otherwise, waiting for Bucky to do so. It starts slowly, with a gentle thrust of Bucky’s hips, a slow roll forward and back as he pushes his cock deeper into Steve’s mouth. His hands are both on the back of Steve’s head again, and though he doesn’t choke him he comes damn close. His cock is huge, hard and wet in Steve’s mouth, tasting salty and so like Bucky, Steve’s sure he’s going to come right in his pants. 

He moans urgently around Bucky’s cock, which only seems to spur the man on. He pumps his cock in and out harder, faster, calling out Steve’s name and a handful of tortured _yes’s_ that send fire curling into Steve’s gut. He can feel the tip nudging the back of his throat and has to consciously relax so he doesn’t gag. It’s amazing, being used that way. Why didn’t he ever let anyone do that to him before? 

He reaches around to clutch at the bare cheeks of Bucky’s ass, physically pulling him in closer, encouraging him to go deeper. Bucky’s hips are snapping rhythmically as he fucks into Steve’s mouth. He’s relentless, and Steve knows he’s getting close to his peak. Sounds are bleeding out of him, soft whines and gasps that drive Steve crazy with lust.

They’re both so fucking hard, one of them’s got to give soon. Turns out to be Bucky; his grip on Steve’s head tightens and his strokes give way to short pulses. A low, throaty growl emanates from his chest before he erupts, and he empties himself inside Steve’s mouth with a strangled cry. Steve swallows it all down, till his throat feels raw. When Bucky slows and stops, Steve relaxes his mouth and allows him to pull out.

Before Steve even has a chance to stand, Bucky has fallen to his knees, pushing him back away from the counter, and pulls him in for another blistering kiss. Their arms wrap around each other tightly, like they’re afraid the other will get away. Their heads are tilted to the side, mouths greedy for more of each other. It’s one of the most passionate kisses they’ve shared. Fuck, one of the most passionate kisses Steve has ever experienced, period. 

They’re not going to make it to the bedroom, not by a long shot. Bucky reaches down and pulls Steve’s shirt up, stopping when it gets caught on their chins and they have to break apart. Steve’s arms are up over his head to let his shirt come off; as Bucky rips his own shirt off and tosses it down, Steve’s getting out of his pants, sitting his ass down on the ceramic tile to shuck them off as fast as he can. Bucky follows suit, so that they are both naked and wanting.

Surging forward, Steve spins them both around lays Bucky down onto his back, using one hand on the back of his head to slow his descent (and keep his head from banging on the tile). They kiss again and it’s just as fiery and reckless as before. Bucky’s hands go around Steve’s back, pulling him down on top of him on the floor. Steve’s on his hands and knees, legs around the outside of Bucky’s, with his erection pushing into his hip.  


The tile is hard on his knees, but the coolness feels good on his overheated skin. He pulls lightly at Bucky’s hair, close to the scalp, tipping his head to the side so he can lick and kiss the soft skin of his neck. Steve is so fucking wet, he can start rutting against Bucky and not have the friction be too much. It’s rough but titillating and he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want anything to come between that skin to skin contact. He can feel Bucky’s hot breaths travel past his ear, until the brunet reaches both hands up behind Steve’s head to latch onto his short hair and give it a tug. He brings Steve’s mouth back up to his for more kissing.  


His chest is pressed to Bucky’s and it’s so good, just feeling the way their bodies come together, the way Bucky moves his hands down to cup his ass, the way it doesn’t matter at all that they’re naked on his kitchen floor. All that matters is their coupling, giving each other as much pleasure as they can.

Bucky’s fingers dip into the cleft between his cheeks and press suggestively in at Steve’s hole. He gasps into Bucky’s mouth and has to pull away just to get another breath in. “Fuck!” he grits out, and arches his back, pushing up against those searching fingers, temporarily putting a stop to the humping he was doing. 

Bucky doesn’t seem to like that, though. His fingers relax. “Don’t stop,” he encourages his partner. “I like the way you feel on top of me.” He pushes his hips up against Steve’s body to illustrate his point. “Want you to come all over me.”

Steve looks at his beautiful, wrecked face, red, bruised lips, eyes blown out black, and kisses him again. He rocks his pelvis, digging his erection into the point of Bucky’s hip, rocking faster. His body is one giant convulsion away from a massive orgasm. Everything inside him screams with divine pleasure, not just _tingling_ ; it’s sparking and jumping and making him want to stay in this minute forever. 

It’s borderline painful, the sensation is so intense, and it doesn’t take long to overtake him. He feels himself let go, cock twitching and pulsing as he comes on Bucky’s midsection, still reeling with the power of their kiss. Eventually his body slows and starts to cool. Bucky’s hands stroke lazily up and down his sides as he comes down from his high. 

They share several breaths, lips not quite touching each other but staying close, eyes open and sharing the same deep, potent gaze. After a minute of silent appreciation for each other and recovery, Bucky smiles and speaks two breathless words. 

“You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two smut chapters in a row! Don't ever say I never gave you anything. ;-) Actually I was going to save this for next chapter, but I thought if I ended it again in a pre-smut spot, I may get lynched and run out of town. :D


	11. Are You Going To Let Me In?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventures with Zeus continue as Steve finishes up his dog duty. Also, the return of Darcy, and _more_ sexy time for Steve and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. More smut. Because I just can't control myself. I might require an intervention. :-)

Chapter Eleven

The weekend passes pretty quietly for Steve. Bucky takes over watching Zeus, so Steve is free to take care of his own business, and doesn’t get to see much of them. One of the few exceptions is when he happens to catch them outside; Zeus is learning how to walk on three legs, hopping around with the fourth leg held in the air. It’s pretty comical to see, but Steve yells down encouragement from his balcony whenever he gets a chance to. 

Tony fills him in on whatever he misses at the office, and Maria has sent him several concerned texts asking how things are going. He’s not sure if she‘s more interested in Bucky updates or Zeus updates, so he includes a little of both just to be safe. The last picture he sent was taken from his balcony, when Bucky and Zeus were out in the courtyard. The heat was scorching and Bucky just happened to have his shirt off. Steve’s phone just happened to find a way to his hand so that he could snap off a shot. Or several. But who’s counting?

Other than that, not much action till Monday comes and Zeus duty starts again. He receives a text from Darcy that morning asking if she can stop over, which is perfect because he wants to show her the website and get some final approvals. He already had asked Bucky, who deferred to her expertise (or as Darcy put it, wimped out). She makes her appearance at lunchtime, decked out in a leather pencil skirt and stilettos. 

Having just finished lunch, Steve was in the kitchen and Zeus had not yet demanded his spot back on his lap. He was camped out on the couch on his blanket when Darcy came swooping in. Steve gets greeted with a bright “Steve-O!”, but Zeus gets the best reception. 

“Zeusy!” she screeches when she sees him, and races over to the couch. 

Zeus, clearly a Darcy fan, had a conniption while waiting for her to make her way across the room. He’s never seen a dog wiggle so much. Steve’s still not sure how she does it in those tight skirts, but somehow Darcy gets down on her knees to lavish him with pets and kisses. Sitting down on the arm of the couch, Steve surreptitiously checks for pee spots. Zeus is _that_ excited, and he’s heard about dogs who accidentally pee when they’re riled up. Fortunately, everything looks dry. Darcy examines his stitches and cast as she talks to Steve.

“This is so nice of you, offering to take care of Zeus!” 

“Really, he’s been no trouble, except for expecting to sit on my lap most of the time.”

Darcy laughs and her eyes light up. She takes Zeus by the face, rubbing his cheeks and ears. “Zeus, really?”

He gives one short “rowr” that seems to be an affirmation. Darcy looks from him to Steve. “Seriously, if he’s difficult, I could try and keep him at the office with me, but it’ll be tough keeping my eyes on him enough to stop him from any chewing…”

She stops when Steve emphatically shakes his head. “Not necessary. Zeus and I are fine.”

Smiling, she rises to take a real seat on the couch next to the little dog. “Sounds like you and Bucky are fine, too. I gotta tell you, Steve-O,” she starts, petting Zeus on the back, “Whatever is going on between you, keep it up. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.”

“Really?” The smile on Steve’s face must be a mile wide, or at least it feels that way to him.

“Really,” Darcy insists. 

“He’s…I really like spending time with him,” Steve says, almost bashfully. It seems like a golden opportunity to find out a little more about the object of his desire, so he takes advantage of Darcy’s presence. “And it seems like he was lucky to have you around after…after his breakup.”

Darcy eyes him cautiously. “He told you about that, did he?”

“A little. Told me about how he got Zeus, and how his boyfriend had been cheating on him.” He pauses and looks down at his tiny houseguest, basking in all the attention Darcy is giving him. “It’s hard to believe anyone would treat him like that.”

Darcy makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and a dry laugh. “If I ever see that fucker again in my lifetime, it’ll be too soon.”

“That bad, huh?” Steve says sympathetically. “Still, Bucky must have been happy, if they stayed together so long.” 

Darcy is silent for a moment, seemingly thinking things over, so Steve doesn’t press. When her eyes meet his again, they look sad. “He was happy…and not happy. What you don’t know is how completely Bucky was under his spell. He gave and gave and gave, and all that bastard ever did was take.” She sounds bitter. “But Bucky didn’t care, because he loved him. That’s why it shattered him so much to find out about the cheating. He trusted him, utterly and completely.”

“How did he find out?”

“I told him,” Darcy answers simply. “See, he was forever going on business trips for his finance job, and one Friday when he was supposed to be out of state, I was downtown to file some permits and saw him and another guy go into a hotel. So I followed him.”

Steve’s eyes are wide. “And?”

She grimaces. “I hung out in the lobby and waited till he had a room key in hand, then nailed him when they went to the elevators.” An evil smile shows for a second only. “Shoulda seen his face when he realized he’d been caught.”

“What did you say?”

“I got right in his face and said, ‘And just who is _this_ , you motherfucking son of a bitch?’” She laughs. “The dude with him thought I was his wife. Took one look at me, huffing and puffing, said he didn’t want to mess around with a married man, and took off.”

Steve laughs, too. “I bet you were bad ass scary.”

“Damn right I was! No one fucks over my Bucky and gets away with it!”

“So what happened then?”

“I left that piece of shit standing there, knowing I had him by the balls, went back to the office and called Bucky. Told him to meet me at the office right away.” Her face softens. “I was so pissed off, but it broke my heart to have to tell him.” She looks off into the distance and shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anyone so thoroughly destroyed. Bucky kicked him out that day, but he was an empty shell after that. I thought he’d never smile again.” She looks down at Zeus, while still stroking his back. “Spent most of his time alone. I was at my wits end, grasping at straws when I took him to the animal shelter with me.”

Steve lays his hand on Zeus’s head, scratching at his ears. Zeus tips his nose up into the air, enjoying more love. “He told me Zeus saved his life.”

Darcy nods. “That’s pretty much the truth. That’s why it’s so good to see him like this, being able to enjoy himself again.”

Steve falls silent, taking that in. Is that all he is? A good time? Or a rebound? If he is, he can’t blame anyone but himself, and if he had to do it over, he wouldn’t turn Bucky down the second time, either. Still, it would’ve been nice to think that maybe Bucky was starting to feel something else… 

Darcy senses his disappointment. “Steve.” She waits until he meets her gaze. “I told you I wouldn’t interfere, and I haven’t. But please be patient…I don’t want you to give up on the idea that this could go somewhere.”

Steve feels heat spread across his cheeks. “Yeah, sure.” He clears his throat. “I just want him to be happy.” 

Darcy nods. “I think I’m starting to believe that more now.” 

Clearing his throat again, Steve stands. “Let me show you the web stuff. It’s just about done.”

She perks up and stands also. “Can’t wait!”

\--

After showing Darcy his work and receiving hearty approvals from her, Steve is feeling more chipper. Zeus is sitting on his lap again, chewing on his tennis ball, when disaster strikes. Steve has his nose in his work when he hears it. The sound of a tennis ball being punctured. Zeus finally succeeded in killing his ball. Steve laughs as Zeus looks at the hole his tooth just made, pokes at it with his nose, and shoves it off of Steve’s legs in disgust. It bounces lamely when it hits the floor and rolls about a foot. Zeus looks back at Steve and whines once, the tip of his tail vibrating. 

“You did it, not me,” Steve tells him. 

Zeus whines again, more indignantly, and Steve continues laughing. “What do you want me to do about it? It’s dead!” He leans down and stretches out his hand, just able to reach it and hand it back to the little dog, but he just noses it again and pushes it away. Steve stares at Zeus and at the ball in his hand. 

“I think we need a road trip, my friend.” 

Zeus’s tail thumps against Steve’s leg rapidly. 

\--

Steve’s never had a dog ride in his car with him, so he doesn’t know exactly what to expect. He sets Zeus down in the passenger seat, and as soon as he snaps his seat belt in place, the dog is already trying to climb onto his lap. 

“No,” Steve says firmly, pushing him back. “You stay over there.” 

After the fourth time in about two blocks, Steve gives up. For the remainder of the drive, Zeus sits in his lap, nose pressed to the glass of his window. He’s never actually been inside a pet supply store either, but passes one on his way to work every day and sees owners and their pets going in and out. He figures he and Zeus should be able to run in and get some new toys. As he is carrying Zeus into the store, a young woman manning the cashier check-out squeals at them. 

“Zeus?” she exclaims, looking from Steve to the dog in his arms and back. Clearly she recognizes Zeus, but not the human with him. 

Zeus is wagging his tail enthusiastically as Steve approaches the woman, in her twenties and wearing a blue apron around her waist. “Yes, it’s Zeus. I’m just helping to take care of him for a while.”

“Awwww! What happened to him?” The woman reaches under the counter and comes up with a dog snack in her palm. She offers it to Zeus, who happily takes it out of her hand and chomps it down.

“He was attacked by another dog,” Steve explains. 

"That's awful!" she exclaims. 

“We came in for some new dog toys?” he adds, framing it as a question so he hopefully can get some direction. 

The young woman smiles. “Aisle five.”

They head off in that direction, and when Steve turns the corner, he stops dead in his tracks. He’s looking down an entire grocery store sized aisle, filled with nothing but dog toys. Sinking down into a squat, Steve picks up one of the baskets from the stack conveniently placed at his feet. “I think we’re gonna need this.”

Slowly they make their way down the aisle, Steve holding Zeus like a football under one arm, basket in that same hand. Big toys, small toys. Stuffed animal toys. Plastic squeaker toys. Balls of every kind. It’s a little overwhelming. With his free hand he picks up various toys and holds them up to his smooth-haired companion. If he makes a grab for it, it goes into the basket. If not, back on the shelf. He selects a stuffed animal moose that looks like Bullwinkle. Zeus sniffs it and turns his head away. 

“Really? No to the moose?” Steve sets it back down and tries again. They end up with three balls, one stuffed animal squirrel that is guaranteed to squeak even when deflated (Steve has his doubts about that claim), and a Nylabone that promises endless hours of chewing fun. 

They encounter two other dogs in that aisle. Steve tenses up when the first one passes them, a yellow lab who pays absolutely no attention to Zeus whatsoever. Zeus eyes him and his human warily but doesn’t bark, which surprises Steve, and makes him wonder if he is gun-shy because of the attack. 

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Steve tells him, petting his tiny head. “I didn’t think about other dogs being here.”

Zeus looks at him and wags as if to let Steve off the hook. The second dog is a black and tan German Shepherd, ears up at attention when he spots another dog. He doesn’t bark either, but tries to sniff him in the butt when he and his owner pass them. Zeus is skittish, squirming in Steve’s arms, but doesn’t freak out. Steve pets him softly as the Shepherd continues on his way.

“Good boy, Zeus, you’re a good boy.” 

They go through the check-out line with no other issues. Steve stares at his window when they return to his car. The lower half of the glass is covered with streaks from Zeus’s nose. He sighs and offers to let him chew on one of the balls when they get back in the car, hoping that will be incentive enough for the Dachshund to stay in the passenger seat, but Zeus is having none of that. It’s straight back onto Steve’s lap for the duration. They make it home and take their treasures into the apartment; Steve gets himself set up on the couch, blanket and new toys in place. 

Two hours later, Steve has heard enough squeaking to last him a lifetime. The squirrel makes good on its advertising promise. Steve spends a considerable amount of time thinking about throwing it out the window, or cutting it open to surgically remove the squeaker. He tried replacing it with another toy, but couldn’t take the sad eyes and even sadder cry that resulted. When Zeus finally falls asleep on his lap in exhaustion, Steve thanks his lucky stars. And throws the squirrel over on top of a table so he can hide it later. 

When Bucky arrives with dinner, this time takeout from the Mexican place he and Sam love, the rest of the toys are still spread out all over the couch. Setting the food down on the counter, Bucky surveys the scene. A smile plays around on his lips. 

“Steve, did you buy my dog new toys?

Steve blushes guiltily, standing next to him. “He broke his ball!” he says defensively, and Zeus backs him up by making one insistent and loud whine. 

Bucky laughs. “Does that wet-looking squirrel over there have a squeaker in it?”

Steve hangs his head. “Yes.”

Bucky’s laughter grows louder. “How long?”

“Two hours.” 

Steve can’t help laughing at himself as Bucky claps him on the shoulder and offers his advice. “That’s why I get tennis balls.” 

The look Bucky gives him then is full of sweetness, and makes Steve’s stomach flop around inside him. The two hours was worth it. 

\--

The end of the week arrives and Steve is honestly saddened, because Zeus will have his stitches removed on Saturday morning and won’t require any more special supervision. That means the end of dinners with Bucky. Friday night they have barbeque ribs, and Bucky thanks him about forty more times as they eat. 

“Stop thanking me, Buck, really, he was no trouble at all!”

Bucky grudgingly gives in. “Maybe not, but I still appreciate everything.” He holds up his hands in surrender, laughing as Steve shoots daggers at him with his eyes. “Okay, no more, I promise.” He then changes the subject. “Where is the wedding you’re going to tomorrow?”

“Downtown,” Steve answers. 

It’s a co-worker's nuptials, so Steve’s not super amped to go, but he and Maria, Tony and Pepper are all attending anyway. And it’s formal, which means Steve has to wear a full suit. He’s already complained some to Bucky about going, but hadn’t mentioned it being a formal affair. 

Saturday afternoon, as he is dressing and getting ready to go, he’s absently thinking about his neighbor. How hot his neighbor is. How much he wants his hot neighbor. Needs his hot neighbor. Then it hits him. On the spur of the moment he decides to text Bucky and see if he can stop by to see Zeus without his stitches. He shoots off a message and gets a quick reply that he is welcome to come over anytime. 

He finishes getting ready as fast as he can so he can get over there in plenty of time before driving to Maria’s place to pick her up. He’s standing at Bucky’s door in his three piece, dark grey suit, when he knocks and waits for entry. 

As soon as the door opens, there is a slow intake of air. Bucky’s eyes move up and down over him, taking in his appearance in his own sweet time. Bucky’s silhouette fills the doorway, so all Steve can do is stand there and be ogled. Not that he minds; it’s arousing as all get out, and exactly the reaction he was hoping for. He stays silent as Bucky’s eyes make their way back up his body and meet his.

Steve lifts his eyebrows innocently. “Are you going to let me in?”

“Hell yeah I am!” Bucky reaches out with one hand, grabs him by the crook of one elbow and pulls. “Get in here,” he commands, and shuts the door firmly once Steve is in far enough. “Look at you, all dolled up,” he says, and the words are like liquid satin rolling off his tongue. 

He pushes Steve back up against his door, both hands planted on his chest. Steve allows himself to be pushed, sliding his own hands around Bucky’s waist. 

“You are so fucking sexy in this suit,” Bucky purrs. 

His fingers are fiddling with the buttons of Steve’s vest, and before Steve knows it, Bucky has it completely undone. He slips his hands inside both vest and suit coat to rub up and over his pecs.

“Bucky,” Steve manages to groan, before Bucky’s mouth is on his, preventing any further speech. 

His lips are warm and soft, and he opens his mouth just enough to tease Steve with a wet, tongue-filled kiss, before he pulls his head back. One hand slides its way down over Steve’s stomach to his groin, wrapping itself around the hardening bulge in his pants.

“What?” he asks, in response to hearing his name.

“What if I have to leave for the wedding right now?” Steve teases breathlessly.

“Do you?” Bucky’s voice is low and urgent.

“No.”

Bucky’s eyes seem to smolder. “How much time?”

“About twenty minutes.”

Bucky’s hand starts to move, making slow, lazy, circular patterns over his erection. “Excellent,” he answers. “Because I see two options here.” 

He kisses Steve’s neck and squeezes his cock gently, making Steve gasp a little and rasp, “And what are those?”

Mouth gliding over Steve’s skin, moving to a new spot on his neck, Bucky kisses him again. “One, I drop and suck your dick till you come down my throat.”

Steve’s eyes drift shut. Blow jobs are good. Then Bucky ups the ante.

“Two, you bend me over my couch and fuck my ass.”

A pathetic whimper rises from Steve’s chest involuntarily. Yeah, blow jobs are good, but fucking Bucky? Yes please. His cock takes a giant leap at those words. 

Bucky looks him square in the eye, completely aware of the jump his cock took, and it’s a completely filthy stare. Steve imagines his own eyes dilating one hundred percent, just from that look. 

“Well then, option two it is,” Bucky drawls, in that same silky voice. His fingers tighten around Steve’s shaft, pulling it and teasing it. “Now let’s get these pants off of you before you ruin them.”

Steve agrees that this idea is grand, because pretty soon there’s going to be a huge wet spot on the front. He lets go of Bucky’s hips and reaches for his own fly. Bucky, however, already has his shirt pulled out and his hands up underneath it, on his bare skin. Searching fingertips find his nipples, rolling over them, circling back and over again, playing with him.

“Oh my God,” Steve breathes. “Jesus, Bucky!”

Bucky’s eyes never leave his, gauging his reaction. 

“Fuck,” Steve curses. He’s trying to concentrate on his pants, but Bucky is so distracting. His cock is pushing out against his underwear, trying to fight its way to freedom. “Are you sure we have time?”

Part of Steve’s brain answers his own question. _Who the fuck cares if you have time? He wants you!_ The logical part, though, tries to ruin the party. “I mean, you’re not ready…” 

He falls quiet when a devious smile spreads across Bucky’s face. 

“Well actually,” he disagrees, “It just so happens I was in the shower a bit ago, thinking about you and how much I wanted you inside me again, and I _might_ have finger fucked myself.”

 _Jesus Christ._ Steve’s mouth falls open and his eyes go unfocused. Bucky in the shower. Naked. Fingering himself. While thinking of _him_. He knows he’s gone slack-jawed, and he feels really hot under the collar. No, not just the collar, everywhere. 

Bucky’s eyes glitter. “You like that idea, huh. Why don’t you come back after the reception is over and we can try it out together?”

Steve manages some sort of unintelligible grunt and nods. “Yeah, I can do that,” he agrees numbly. Christ, he needs his pants off _now_. Bucky grabs him by the tie and yanks on it, walking backward and leading Steve around by it. He reaches the couch and lets go. “I’ll be right back,” he promises in a sultry growl, and disappears down the hall toward his bedroom. 

Wasting no time, Steve drops his drawers, getting his shoes and socks off with them (because he would feel weird standing there with socks on but no pants). He folds his pants and drapes them over one end of the couch, does the same with his coat and vest, then turns to see Bucky re-enter the room. Naked. With a hard-on that makes Steve want to forget options one and two and take that cock into his mouth right now. 

Bucky, however, has his eyes on Steve’s groin as he prowls forward. He’s got a bath towel in his hands that he throws over the back of the couch, and a tube of lube. Steve makes a motion with his hand for it, but his partner shakes his head and whips his hand away. 

“Oh no, I get to slick you up.” He opens up the tube. “Can’t have you getting mussed up.” He squirts some lube onto his fingers and palm, then steps in toward Steve, kissing him at the same time his hand wraps itself around the base of his cock and strokes him, twisting as he goes to coat his shaft. 

Steve braces his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and wills himself not to come all over his hand and Bucky’s stomach. His breaths are shallow and fast, his cock pulsing and throbbing, filling up so fast he’s almost light-headed. 

“Oh, yeah,” he whispers, enjoying Bucky’s ministrations. “God, yes.”

Bucky gives him one more kiss and pumps his hand up and down over Steve’s already rock-hard cock. 

It's too much to handle and Steve decides he can’t wait any longer. “I need inside you.”

He’s still got his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, so he spins him around and pushes down on his upper back, bending him over the couch and bath towel. Bucky lets himself be manhandled, bracing his hand on the couch in front of him. Steve’s fingers slide into the cleft of his ass, finding the puckered entrance he wants. Quickly he lines himself up and pushes in, and goddamn if Bucky wasn’t telling the truth. He slides in pretty easily, slowly seating himself so he’s buried completely inside his lover’s body. It’s all soft, velvety heat, surrounding him, squeezing in on all sides. He doesn’t realize he hasn’t moved at all until Bucky’s voice floats up to him. 

“Damnit, Steve, _move!_ ” 

_Oh yeah._ Slowly he pistons his hips in and out, admiring the view of Bucky’s ass in front of him, and his broad back falling away over the top of the couch. He runs one hand up and over Bucky’s spine, the flat of his palm feeling every vertebrae. With his other hand he holds Bucky’s waist. Bucky is tall enough that his feet are still comfortably on the ground, and Steve guesses his cock should be accessible, not trapped at the top of the couch. 

As he pumps his shaft in and out, he sneaks that hand around from his hip and finds Bucky’s length, wrapping his hand around it. Bucky makes a loud moaning sound, but slaps the offending hand away. 

“Sleeve!” he reminds him. “I’ll do that part.”

He drops his own hand down, the one already slicked up, and by the movement of his arm, Steve can tell he’s jerking himself off. Closing his eyes, Steve imagines Bucky’s hand, stroking himself, milking his cock until he explodes. His own hips move faster and he changes his angle slightly, searching for that perfect spot. He finds it and delights in hearing the hard gasp from his lover. 

“Oh, fuck!” Bucky groans. “Steve.” It’s barely discernable, but Steve picks up his name, wrenched out of him in the heat of passion. 

Hand moving faster, Bucky speeds up and his body tenses in front of Steve, who fucks into him harder, slamming in and out until the world starts spinning around him. The only things that register in his brain are the soft mewls coming from Bucky and the pooling heat in his own groin. He knows when Bucky reaches his peak by the way his body becomes tight and still, muscles paralyzed for a moment. He cries out and then relaxes, and the movement of his arm stops.

Steve hasn’t stopped. He’s close. So very close. He can’t get any deeper than he is right now, penetrating Bucky till his thighs are slapping up right against his beautiful ass. He draws himself almost all the way out and slams back home a few more times; the couch actually shifts forward from the force of his movement, and then his orgasm is upon him. Sweet waves of tingling pleasure rock him, billowing out from his core and filling him up. 

How can Bucky have this effect on him? It’s out of control, the way Bucky makes him feel, like no one else even shares the planet with them. No one else could ever do this to him, make him feel this happy and sated, and it’s so fucking right. He comes with a loud cry, not caring that half the building might have just heard that. He bends over Bucky, clutching at one of his shoulders to bury himself as deeply as he can as he empties himself. 

His strokes slow and eventually stop, and he collapses on top of Bucky in fatigue, kissing one shoulder blade tenderly before resting his chin on his back. He really could stay there comfortably for quite a while, but it can’t be as good a position for Bucky, so after he pulls out, he rolls off to the side to allow him to stand. 

They both straighten up slowly, and Bucky has the most fantastic smile on his face when he turns back to Steve and kisses him sloppily on the mouth.

“Come on, baby, lets get you cleaned up and dressed, before you’re late.” 

Steve freezes in place. _Wedding_. Jesus. Bucky has him so turned around and upside down, he almost forgot that he’s on his way to a wedding. Bucky pulls the towel off the couch, folds it so the mess he made on it is on the inside, and uses the clean part to lean in and clean Steve off, at the same time giving him another few kisses. Then he slaps Steve right on the ass, his hand stinging him just a little, and says, “Go!” in a playful voice. 

“Ow!” Steve feigns irritation. “Watch it, I have sensitive skin.”

Snickering, Bucky reaches around and gives him a pinch. “Doesn’t seem like it when you’re guarding me and backing your ass up all over me.”

Laughing, Steve dresses again in record time. It’s only then he notices a pair of bright, brown eyes peering at him over the top of the couch. “Hey Zeus,” Steve nods at him. “Looking good without those stitches.” The hair is starting to grow back at the shaved spots. “Has he been staring at us the whole time?”

Bucky chuckles and nods. He doesn’t even bother getting dressed, just lounges next to the couch, watching Steve dress. “The whole time. Guess we gave him a little show.”

“Well alright then.” Steve finishes buttoning up his vest and pulls on his suit coat. “How do I look?” 

Bucky’s eyes rake over him, pretty much the same way they drank him in at the door. “So goddamn sexy. Like you just got laid.”

Steve steps toward him and gives him one more kiss. “See you later?” His eyebrows raise suggestively. 

“Yeah,” Bucky responds softly. “Don’t forget to come back.” 

Steve drops his eyes, taking in Bucky’s sensational body. “How could I forget?” he states, shaking his head as he passes Bucky and rounds the other side of the couch, heading for the door. 

\--

The wedding is nice. Fun, even. He meets up with Maria, Tony and Pepper and they have a great time at the reception, but privately Steve can’t stop thinking of Bucky and how much he wants to get back to him. It’s at the back of his mind the entire night, and as soon as Maria starts looking tired out, he asks if she’s ready to go. 

Her eyes twinkle at him. “Why, Steve, got a hot date tonight?”

He blushes, unable to help himself, and that gives him away.

“Bucky?” Maria squeaks, and Steve is glad that they are sitting alone at their table, having just returned from the dance floor. He nods, embarrassed. No one had figured out that he just had a quickie before getting here, thank goodness. The lights are dimmed, with candles glowing from the centerpieces at each table, but he can make out the figures of Tony and Pepper on the far side of the dance floor. Not far from them, the happy bride and groom dance as well. 

Maria pops out of her chair, grabbing her purse in haste. “Well come on then, Steve, let’s go!” She beckons to him. “We can say our good-byes on the way out.”

“Are you sure?” Steve rises from his chair slowly, not wanting Maria to leave before she’s ready, but she grabs at his arm and pulls at him.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m pooped.”

The hour is late enough that other guests have already left, so Steve allows her to pull him along with her. He wonders for a split second if he hasn’t waited too long, if it’s too late to go back to Bucky’s, then instantly decides he’s going back, no matter what the hour. Bucky is the one who suggested it, for Pete’s sake. 

After dropping Maria off safely at home, he doesn’t even bother going back to his apartment first, just goes straight to Bucky’s door. He did take advantage of the Tic-tac’s offered by Maria, smiling indulgently when she giggled at him like a schoolgirl. He knocks quietly and the door opens; Bucky steps back right away to allow him entrance. 

“Oh, good,” he says, sounding relieved. “I hoped you wouldn’t be drunk and unable to drive back.” He shuts the door and immediately slides his hands inside Steve’s coat to push it off his shoulders and rid him of it. “Or too drunk to remember to come back.”

Steve’s hands travel around his waist and clasp behind his back. Their lips meet in a hot, fiery kiss, picking back up just where they left off. Steve lets his lips part and his tongue lick at Bucky’s lower lip, before licking deeper into his mouth. Bucky presses his body to Steve’s in a way that definitely attracts the attention of his dick.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs, right into Bucky’s mouth, and squeezes him tightly, smashing their chests and hips together. 

Bucky breaks away from him and takes him by the hand. “Come on,” he invites him, and leads him toward the area of his apartment Steve hasn’t seen yet. He's only got one light on in the living room. The rest of the place looks dark. 

He pulls him into the bathroom, flipping on the light, and attacks his pants, working them open. They strip each other quickly, clothes flying everywhere, ending up on the floor in a messy heap. Bucky reaches into the walk-in shower and turns on the water, then takes Steve’s arms and wraps them around his own body. Steve gladly takes him into his arms, kissing him again deeply. They make out for a minute, standing outside the shower, letting their erections grow.

Bucky’s mouth is warm and wet, his tongue probing Steve’s mouth softly. Steve loses himself in Bucky’s kiss, totally unaware of anything outside their bodies until something wet touches his ankle. Wet and cold. Startled, he looks down at Zeus, who has stumped his way in from the other room to see what’s going on. 

“Zeus, go lie down,” Bucky commands urgently. 

Zeus flips his tail, perking up his ears but not moving from his spot at their feet. 

“Zeus, go on, buddy!” Bucky pleads, and his dog turns, hopping on three legs to leave the room.

Steve is still watching him go when Bucky takes his chin in his hand and pulls his face back to his, grinding in against him as he does so. His cock is hard, erection fully formed, just like Steve’s is. 

“Where were we?” he murmurs, stepping sideways into the shower and bringing Steve with him. 

The water is plenty hot now and drenches them both. Steve swings the door shut behind them. The space isn’t huge, but it’s enough for the two of them. Bucky’s hair gets plastered down around his face, dripping and looking sexier than it should. He turns, putting his back to Steve and his hands high up on the tiled wall above him, standing spread eagle and nearly bringing Steve to his knees with lust. 

There’s that ass again, perfectly sculpted, with a tan line right across the belt line, white skin of his cheeks teasing him.

“Lube’s on the shelf,” Bucky states helpfully, then jokes playfully, “Make my dream come true, baby.”

Steve’s cock throbs painfully at those words. He grabs at the tube of lube desperately, like his life depends on it, and almost drops it. When he snaps the lid open, Bucky’s head turns in the direction of the sound and Steve can see the corner of his mouth lift. 

Getting his fingers slicked up as fast as he can, he presses them in between those two perfect cheeks, just rubbing up and down in the cleft first. Even that takes his breath away, so he replaces his fingers with his cock, already standing up at attention as high as it can. As he pushes his thick shaft up and down in between the cheeks of Bucky’s ass, both men moan with the intense pleasure of it. 

Steve rests his hands on Bucky’s hips, just at his waist. Bucky’s skin is wet and smooth, allowing him to gyrate and grind against him for some awesome fucking friction. He’ll come all over that fine ass if he keeps it up, though, so he stops and presses one fingertip in at his hole, circling around it and over it until Bucky begs. 

“God, Steve, please!” 

His head is down, hands still high up on the wall, the muscles of his shoulder blades working as he presses on the wall impatiently. The water of the shower is running over his back and hitting Steve on the side of his body. Bucky looks irresistible, wet and willing. Steve pushes one finger quickly in, up to the knuckle, and fucks Bucky with it, reveling in the way he pushes back against him, wanting more. He sinks in another digit, and another, but Bucky doesn’t need much preparation. 

He removes his fingers and lines up his cock instead, one hand on his dick and the other on Bucky’s chest. He brings his mouth close to Bucky’s ear. “I want you to come all over this wall,” he mouths in a whisper, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the water. Then he drives forward, thrusting himself into Bucky’s hot, tight channel. 

The two men moan simultaneously. It’s just as good as it was earlier, punching the air out of his chest with the exquisiteness of it. He pumps in and out, hearing himself start to whimper in a high-pitched, breathless voice. He clutches at Bucky’s chest with one hand and holds the front of his hip with the other, pounding into him from behind with all the force he can muster. Bucky arches back against him, hands fisted up on the wall. 

“Oh, fuck!” He cries out, pushing back hard, meeting Steve stroke for stroke. 

Steve groans, snapping his hips, cock burning up, inflamed beyond his ability to describe, throbbing along with the rest of his body. 

“Come on, baby,” he cajoles him. “You feel so good, with my cock up your tight little ass.” 

He meant for that to work Bucky up into a frenzy, but instead it has the opposite effect. He comes first this time, white stars bursting behind his eyes, body thrumming with electricity as his release comes and he fills the brunet in front of him, clinging to his body as if to join their two forms into one. 

Bucky comes untouched just a moment later, thin, pearly ropes streaking across the tile. Damn. Steve had been hoping to at least get a hand on him before that happened, being denied the chance earlier in the day, but it’s beautiful nonetheless, the whispery sighing sound Bucky makes after he shoots his load and relaxes against the wall. 

Maybe next time, Steve thinks, and the thought fills him with hope, that there will be a next time. Things have been perfect so far. As long as Steve can keep from fucking up, there should be no reason they can’t just keep on keeping on. As long as he can keep his stupid feelings to himself, nothing can go wrong. Right?


	12. I'll Wait For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky isn't done with Steve yet after their time together in his shower, a fact for which Steve is eternally grateful. After though... Steve falls asleep and does something he hasn't ever done with him yet. And then all hell breaks loose, or so it feels to Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's more sexy time...if you're tired of that, skip to the end of the chapter for important plotty stuff. This chapter is a little shorter, but I just felt like it had to end right there. But hey, I did add on one more chapter, maybe possibly two. So there you go. :D As always, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> to the lovely elves_n_angels; that tentacle reference was just for you babe. ;-)

Chapter Twelve

As they exit the shower and Bucky hands him a towel to dry off with, Steve is fully prepared for this to be the end of their night together. After all, they’ve already had sex twice today, and he doesn’t want to be greedy. So he’s surprised when Bucky takes the towel back when he’s done, sets it down on the edge of the sink with his own, and wordlessly takes his hand. He leads him into his bedroom, the inner sanctum Steve hasn’t been privileged enough to see yet.

“Probably time you got in here,” Bucky states, leaving the lights out and pulling Steve to him. 

“I would have to agree,” Steve gets out, before there is a soft whine from the direction of the bed that sounds (at least to Steve) like a question mark. 

They both turn and look at the bed; coming in from the bathroom across the hall is a rectangle of light just long enough to allow them to see Zeus, standing at the edge of the bed.

“How’d he get up there?” Steve asks, shocked. 

“I don’t know. Guess he figured out a way to jump using three legs,” Bucky answers in a dumbfounded voice. “Zeus, you can lie down. It’s okay.”

Zeus obediently goes to the corner of the bed, where there is a blanket that has been ruffled up into the shape of a little nest. He climbs back into it, circles once, and lies down.

Bucky turns back to Steve. “Is that going to bother you?” 

Steve shrugs. “You mean him sleeping on the bed? No, not unless he’s trying to sniff my butt the whole time.”

Bucky makes an endearing giggling sound. “He’ll probably just sleep, but who knows. He’s never seen anyone else in my bed before.”

Somehow that sentence makes everything inside Steve turn to liquid, and threaten to spill out his ears. How the hell did he get to be the lucky one to share Bucky’s bed? As he is pondering this mystery of the universe, Bucky turns back to him, takes his face in his hands, and kisses him. 

This time it’s gentle and easy, not frenzied or rushed by raging libidos or limited time schedules. Bucky’s hands are on his cheeks, on his jaw, on his neck, feeling all of him, touching him as they kiss. Slow-moving fingertips trail over his shoulders and down over his arms, giving him goosebumps. Something that Steve can’t identify pushes at the back of his mind, tickling him with its insistent presence, teasing him with the possibility of an epiphany, if he can _just_ get there.

Bucky’s body is so very distracting, though. Brain epiphanies can surely wait till later. Steve raises his own hands from Bucky’s waist, touching his abdominals, traveling upward to find his nipples. He brushes his fingertips over both, letting them pebble up under his touch. The muscles underneath are so hard it’s like touching stone, but his skin is soft. He rubs at them, massages them, till his own fingertips are buzzing.

Bucky moans so softly into his mouth, Steve doesn’t even hear the sound of it; he just feels the vibration. With Bucky’s arms now circling his waist, they continue kissing lazily. Steve thumbs his nipples till Bucky is almost purring, the deep rumble in his chest driving Steve crazy. 

He bends and dips his head till he can get one nipple into his mouth, sucking on the hardened nub. The low-pitched sound Bucky was making turns into something squeakier and breathy, an indigent whine that eggs him on. Using his tongue, he circles around the nipple and laps at it, still rubbing the pad of his thumb over its mate and sliding his free hand around Bucky’s flank. He gets in another few teasing sucks before Bucky groans and grabs at his face with his hands, pulling him back up and shuffling sideways toward the bed. 

“Get on top of me,” he says, sounding at the same time mildly bossy and a little like he’s begging. “I like you on top of me,” he adds, reminding Steve of their encounter in his kitchen. 

They reach the bed; Bucky yanks down the sheets and dives on. Steve has no problem with climbing on top of his partner. Nor does he have a problem with a little bossiness. He loves hearing Bucky tell him what he wants, what makes him feel good. Gets his own engine revving, and also just makes _him_ feel good, knowing he’s the one that Bucky wants. 

Sure enough, as he clambers up on the bed, cages Bucky’s body beneath his and presses their bulk together, knees on the bed in between Bucky’s legs, he can feel that they both are becoming aroused again. It’s not everyone that Steve can be so carefree with, resting almost all his body weight on top of Bucky, but his size, so close to Steve’s, makes that possible. It’s a little bit of a kink for him, to be honest. He likes being able to sink down and relax, feeling that solid mass beneath him.

Now that he’s got Bucky trapped underneath him, he goes back to what they were doing standing up; after all, that reaction was too intoxicating to cut short. He ducks his head down and suckles one nipple, taking the dark skin into his mouth with a low moan of his own. It’s erotic, feeling Bucky arch up under him, pushing his nipple further into his mouth. Bucky’s fingers slithers around Steve’s neck and over the back of his head, holding his head close. 

One of his legs winds its way around Steve’s, starting down at the calf and moving upward, until he can hook his leg over Steve’s lower back. Using his leg strength, he presses down on Steve’s back to pull them impossibly closer together. Bucky’s hardening length gets mashed against Steve’s midsection, and damn if that isn’t a turn on. He leaves the nipple for now, bringing his mouth back to Bucky’s and rubbing their erections together.

He’s the one arching now, pushing his cock, slick at the tip, against his partner’s, at the same time he thrusts his tongue into his mouth. Christ, he loves kissing Bucky. Both of them are breathing heavily, neither willing to break apart for air. Their mouths and tongues are intertwined tightly, heads turning one way and then the other, kissing madly, making slurping, wet smacking noises without care. Both of Bucky’s hands are in his hair, on his back, roving like he’s an octopus with eight arms and tentacles. 

When he slips his hands down and over Steve’s ass, cupping his cheeks and rocking Steve’s body up and down over his, sliding their cocks over one another roughly, it’s enough to make Steve throw his head back and pant, whining like an animal. Bucky pulls both of his legs up and wraps them around Steve’s butt, digging in with his heels to force their cocks together more tightly, more insistently.

“Oh my God…Bucky!” Steve moans, and Bucky moans back wordlessly, still using his arms to move Steve up and down over his own giant erection. 

It feels so amazing, the way their bodies match up together. Buck’s cock feels pretty fantastic down there and he’d like to get a hand on it, but when he picks one up from the bed to reach down and stroke him, there’s kind of not enough space between them. They’re tangled together like a pretzel. Bucky suddenly bucks and rolls Steve off of him, going with him so they both end up on their sides facing each other.

“Jesus, I want you,” Bucky whispers loudly, pulling Steve’s mouth back to his. 

There’s plenty of room for Steve’s hand to snake down and palm his length and his balls, giving him a squeeze as they start to kiss again. Their short kisses quickly evolve into longer, deeper, harder ones, creating bruised lips and rapid breathing. Steve’s hand shifts from Bucky’s cock to the crest of his hip, tipping it toward him, encouraging Bucky to rut against him from this direction, too. He can feel the hardness of him against his own hip, wet and thick. 

Bucky rolls his pelvis and Steve’s cock drags against his skin, too, his erection a thing of beauty. Bucky keeps thrusting against him, but it’s less hurried than when Steve was on top of him. He’s deliberately slowing things down, making this more of a promise of what’s to come than an attempt at an orgasm right now. Bucky’s fingers are on his jaw, followed by his lips, laying kisses down the sharp angle of it. Those same wandering fingers ghost over Steve’s side and down his back, exploring the cleft between his two cheeks, snugging his middle finger right up against Steve’s entrance. A hot exhalation of air escapes Steve when Bucky’s finger pushes in slightly, not penetrating him yet but on the verge. 

Bucky somehow has the ability to make him come undone, to crave being rammed into until he can’t even stand straight. Right now he can’t imagine anything feeling better than Bucky moving inside him, and for Steve, that’s pretty new. Typically when it came to sex, he preferred to be on the giving end, rather than the receiving end. With Bucky it’s different. So much different. 

“Bucky,” Steve murmurs and wonders if Bucky can hear his voice tremble as he continues, “Yes.” His other fingers rub over him in slow passes, up and down, and Steve’s sighs turn into tortured moans. “Yes, Buck, _yes_.”

“Face the other way,” Bucky whispers, and turns to reach for the bedside table.

Steve nods and flips over on his other side. He hears the bedside table drawer get pulled out and shut again, and the bed dips behind him as Bucky shifts. His chest is against Steve’s back as he reaches slicked up fingers down to his hole again and penetrates him with a single digit. As he pumps his finger in and out, he reaches around with his free hand and takes hold of Steve’s cock, directly at the base.

Bucky circles his fingers and palm around him tightly and strokes him, long and hard. With a hiss, Steve tilts his head back, looking for something to brace himself against, or nuzzle, or _something_. Bucky’s mouth finds the side of his neck and latches on, kissing and mouthing him. Steve makes what is possibly the most whorish sound he’s ever made. It’s dirty and base, and Bucky responds by inserting another digit, and jerking him off harder. The hand on his cock pulls and twists until Steve’s vision blurs. The fingers inside him are crooking perfectly to strike his prostate with every plunge. 

Words and sounds dribble out of him and he doesn’t care if he makes no sense at all, he just _wants_. Wants Bucky to never stop. Wants this feeling every day of the fucking year, because he’s so horny he’s going to come before Bucky even gets close to putting his cock inside him. His own shaft is unbearably hard, leaking all over and engorged enough to explode. 

The hand around him tightens even more, gripping him and working him over. It speeds up, just the way Steve needs it to, just the right way to get him off. He arches and grabs at the sheets, clenching his fists and clenching his cheeks around Bucky’s fingers, too. Bucky’s breath on his neck stutters, but the kisses don’t stop. Nothing stops. Bucky is stimulating him from every angle possible, and it’s delicious.

The brunet does take time out from sucking on his neck to groan in a needy way and whisper, “Come on baby, come for me.”

He pumps his fingers in and out faster, scissoring, stretching him. God, the double hit from behind and in front is too much. Bucky’s hands on him and in him, stroking him and fucking him, make Steve swear he’ll lose his mind. Well, maybe not his mind, but he definitely shoots his load, and pleasure rips right through him. Maybe not a lot to shoot after the shower sex, but an orgasm is an orgasm, and this one has him ready to blissfully scream Bucky’s name out into the darkness of the night. 

Spurts of white decorate the bed in front of him. As he comes down from his high, panting and reeling, Bucky removes his fingers and lines up, massaging Steve’s cock as it softens. Steve logically decides that Bucky has superhuman control and a cock made of steel, because he’s still taking his time back there, despite the monster sized erection Steve can feel digging into his back. 

When Bucky finally pushes in and penetrates him, filling Steve up with his cock, it’s still unrushed and intimate. Bucky’s fingertips caress the jut of his hip, so tenderly, so softly. He’s deep inside him when he gently rocks his hips, striking his sweet spot with each pass. He makes long, deep strokes that never seem to end, one flowing into the next seamlessly, and his lips are at Steve’s earlobe, nibbling at it. Steve hears his name whispered into his ear, and reaches back with his hand to grip the back of Bucky’s head, sinking his fingers into the soft, damp hair. 

It’s all done so…lovingly, so sweetly, and that’s when it hits Steve. That thing that was nudging his brain earlier. The thing he’s been carefully avoiding making contact with, for fear of being hurt. This is what it’s like _making love_. Not just having sex. He’s been making love to Bucky, and Bucky is now making love to him. He’s sure of it. Nothing else could be so pure. Nothing else could make him feel such unimaginable joy. And beyond the bedroom, he’s found the one person who can make him feel like being in love is a positive thing, not a drain. Not something to be avoided and shunned. Something that brings light and hope and the knowledge that this is where he belongs, and this is who he belongs to. _I love you_ he thinks. _I love you, Bucky_.

Suddenly Steve is glad he’s facing away from him, because his eyes feel wet with emotion and he has to press his lips together to keep a sob from escaping. The realization overwhelms him. He’s never been in love. He had no idea it could be like this. And he has no idea what to do with this new-found awareness; it certainly wasn’t part of their agreement. Bucky still thrusts into him gently, kissing his ear, his neck, nuzzling into his shoulder. He feels safe, and loved, and needed, and zings of pleasure still reverberate through him every time Bucky strokes his prostate. 

After what feels like a glorious eternity of Bucky fucking into him, his fingers press in hard at his hip and Steve knows from the sharp hitch in his breathing that he’s coming, spilling himself deep inside of him. And Steve knows this is the only man he ever wants and needs, from here on out. Bucky’s body stills; he makes no move to pull out right away, and Steve enjoys the warmth that goes with having Bucky embedded inside him, till his softening cock slips from his body of its own accord.

They lie there silently, together, enjoying the afterglow. Steve finds Bucky’s hand on his hip and draws his arm forward, across his chest to keep him close. He can feel Bucky smile into his hair; his head is just behind Steve’s as they share a pillow and spoon. It’s comfortable, and Steve thinks maybe now is the time he should tell Bucky how he feels. If they both feel it, maybe now is the time to confess what he’s been keeping bottled up inside…

But they’ve spooned before so he figures there’s no rush; there’s plenty of time for talking after they come down from their high. He can just enjoy a moment of silent adoration. He can close his eyes for just a minute. Then the edges of his vision get fuzzy and dark and he’s falling asleep…but he can still tell Bucky in the morning. Yes. Morning. Brilliant idea…

\--

Steve wakes, and bright light is spilling over the bed. Sometime during the night he and Bucky reversed positions, so that Steve is now the big spoon and Bucky the little one, and the sheet is pulled up over them. On the edge of the bed, Zeus sleeps on his blanket, curled up into a tiny ball. Bucky’s even breathing pattern suggests that he is not awake yet, so Steve doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to spoil this perfect moment, still in a sleepy daze, the haze of post-sex euphoria not yet banished from the room, and the new consciousness that he’s in love still fresh in his mind.

They’ve never spent the whole night together, but Steve has no regrets at all. And he’s still going to do it…he’s going to tell him everything when he wakes. Subconsciously he nods, and Bucky then stirs in front of him. 

He pulls Steve’s arm over him and snuggles into his embrace, and it’s heaven. Steve can’t help the tiny sighing sound he makes, it’s just so wonderful waking up with Bucky in his arms. Then Bucky lifts his head, realizes Steve is directly behind him, and pushes directly up into sitting. “Steve! I’m sorry,” he says, and his eyes are wide as saucers. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep so hard.” His breaths are uneven, and Steve swears he can feel him shaking. “I didn’t mean to…did you need to go?”

“What? No…” Steve is now confused. Go? No, he never wants to leave again. “No, it’s fine.”

Now he feels like he should apologize too, even though this was the best night of his life. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stay all night…”

Bucky shakes his head, but there’s a tension in him that Steve doesn’t like the feel of. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Bucky says, and his lips press together. 

Zeus has now woken up as well and is hopping around on the bed. Bucky is just odd…out of sorts, his manner jumpy. 

“I need to take Zeus out,” he says, looking around the room and everywhere except Steve’s eyes, latching onto his dog’s movements like he needs an excuse to get out of there. “But will you wait for me?” His eyes do land on Steve then, and it’s not an expression Steve can place. Without knowing why, he suddenly gets the chills. 

“Of course I’ll wait for you,” he answers, not knowing what else to say. He doesn’t say “I love you”, or “I want to be with you forever,” or give voice to any of the other thoughts he had last night. He just…sits and stares. 

Bucky hops out of bed and gets into his dresser, hastily pulling on shorts and a tee. He grabs Zeus and stands, looking in Steve’s direction again. “I’ll be right back.”

He takes off, leaving Steve feeling naked in more than one way. With nothing else to do, he traipses into the bathroom and retrieves most of his clothes, still lying in a pile on the floor. He’s wrinkled beyond belief, but no one else will see him anyway, so he figures it doesn’t matter. He’s only got to go two doors down to get back to his apartment. 

The door opens and shuts again and there is the sound of keys being thrown down on a table. Bucky returns to the bedroom, still holding his dog, and also Steve’s suit jacket that he shed by the front door last night. Bucky sets Zeus down on the bed and sits down next to Steve, who has his pants and shirt on. Bucky looks nervous, so Steve feels nervous. All of that confidence he had last night is gone, dissipated in the morning light. 

Bucky shifts his weight, throwing one knee up on the bed to turn towards Steve. “Steve, we need to talk.” He lays the jacket down between them on the bed carefully. “I…I don’t think we should do this anymore.” His eyes motion to the bed, and his meaning cannot be mistaken. 

Steve freezes. His heart stops beating.

Bucky won’t look at him. “It’s too…I can’t…I just don’t think it’s a good idea anymore.” 

Suddenly Steve can’t even feel the bed underneath him. Everything feels numb. Is he breathing? He might not be breathing. His heart and lungs have seized up. Bucky couldn’t have just said that, could he? After last night? 

The first word that forms on his lips is “No.” And then, “Why?” But he can’t say either of those words. He can’t say anything at all. Because Bucky doesn’t owe him a “why”. Bucky doesn’t owe him a fucking thing, because Steve is the one who overstepped the boundaries here, not Bucky. Steve is the one who fucking fell in love. Steve is the one who entered into an agreement he couldn’t possibly keep. Suddenly he’s the one who wants to bolt from the room.

But has Bucky figured that out? Is that why he wants to stop? Is he saying this _because_ of last night? Because Steve is so totally wrong, he can’t _be_ more wrong? Bucky wasn’t making love to him. Bucky doesn’t love him. _Rejection_. It doesn’t just sting as it permeates him. It’s like razor blades tearing through, one by one, selecting the most painful places in his heart to strike first.

Bucky doesn’t want him anymore, because _he knows_. He knows Steve crossed the line. He knows Steve wants too much, wants more than he can give, so he’s calling it quits. Steve won’t get to touch him, or kiss him, or feel his body heat next to him when they lie together in bed. Ever again.

All of that flashes through Steve’s head in an instant. Or maybe it takes several minutes, but time seems frozen in a horrible, dark place. At least, it seems horrible to Steve, but Bucky, his poor Bucky…he doesn’t deserve this. The man made his needs perfectly clear from the very start, and it was clear that he was in a fragile state, and Steve had to go and fucking ruin it. _My God…what have you done?_

He can’t let Bucky see what this is doing to him. Can’t make him feel like it’s his fault, or make him more uncomfortable, or he’ll lose his friendship forever. And even if he loses the physical part of their relationship, he _can’t_ lose the emotional part. 

That just can’t happen. That part _must_ be preserved. Loving Bucky platonically must be better than not being able to love him at all, right? No matter how much it hurts, how much it tortures him to know they won’t be together and to lose the intimacy they shared, losing him entirely would be too much to bear. He’s got to do whatever it takes to keep his friendship. 

No matter what. 

Bucky is looking at him, waiting for him to say something…anything…but Steve feels like his mouth is as dry as a desert. He opens his jaw, but no words come out. 

It’s full on panic in Bucky’s eyes then. He’s quick to jump in when Steve is unable to form a single fucking word, staring like he’s become mute.

“I mean, I still want to be friends.” Bucky’s hand shoots out and grabs Steve by the wrist, and it’s an iron grip. “Please, promise me we’ll still be friends,” he blurts out, and Steve can now identify another emotion in his eyes, because it’s the same one in his. Fear. 

He doesn’t like seeing that on Bucky’s face. That look must be made to go away. He’s got to pull it together, for Bucky’s sake, and find the will to pretend that everything is okay. “Of course.” He takes a deep breath and tries to steady his voice. “Of course we’ll still be friends.” 

Bucky looks him in the eyes. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

Steve swallows down a mountain of pain and regret, plastering on his best fake smile. The words barely come out a whisper. “Of course.” 

Bucky looks down again, and his hair falls in a curtain over his eyes. Steve considers that lucky, because his own face just crumbled, his façade broken. 

And on the inside, a part of him just died.


	13. Good Luck With That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all about Steve, his broken heart, and the mass of confusion that is currently his brain.

Chapter Thirteen

After running out of Bucky’s apartment as fast as he thinks he possibly can without arousing suspicion, Steve spends his Sunday in turns moping and wallowing in self-pity. He lies on his couch, staring at the ceiling. On the couch he and Bucky made out on. He doesn’t talk to Sam. He doesn’t talk to anyone. The only person he wants to talk to is the one person he _can’t_ talk to. 

How could things be going so right, and then suddenly go so wrong? He thinks about their night together, running it through his head over and over. How perfect it was, how happy he was. And then how awful it was. Why was Bucky so spooked? Was it because Steve spent the entire night there? He must have done something to scare him off. As far as solving the problem goes, obsessing about it doesn’t help at all. As far as making him miserable goes, it does a helluva job. 

He’s already longing for the brunet, and that’s not a good sign. They’re supposed to go to their first football game together next weekend, so he’s got from now until next Saturday to figure out how to be around Bucky without showing what a wreck he is. 

_Good luck with that_ , he thinks as he dumps his laundry from the hamper into a basket. Might as well get some chores done while he’s busy being sad and dejected. Just as he’s getting ready to go down to the laundry room, with his laundry basket sitting on his couch where he sat previously, there is a knock on his door. 

Steve freezes in his spot, just about to grab some detergent from the linen closet in his hallway. What if it’s Bucky? Can he handle seeing him again so soon? _No,_ a little voice inside him screams. He starts to panic, but then a familiar voice rings out from the other side of the door. 

“Yo, Steve, open the door, this basket is _heavy_!” 

Steve exhales and his shoulders relax. It’s Sam. He’s not really sure he wants to talk about it yet, even with Sam, so as he walks over to the door he tries to arrange his face into something normal. Once he’s sure he’ll pass casual inspection, he opens the door and stands back. 

Sam enters, carrying his own laundry basket packed with clothes. “Hey, just thought you might want to go down and…” 

He stops and stares. “What the hell happened to you?” he demands. 

Steve sighs, closes his eyes and lets his door swing shut. So much for looking normal. Sam drops his basket on the floor. 

“What’s going on?”

Steve wanders over to the couch and sits down. Sam follows suit, looking at him with concern in his dark eyes. 

“It’s Bucky. He…doesn’t want to…” Emotion starts to well up and Steve swallows hard, trying to force it back down. “He doesn’t want to do the benefit thing anymore. He just wants to be friends. Only friends.”

Steve stares at the floor as he talks. He can’t look at Sam until he’s done speaking. He lets his eyes creep back up, and Sam is stroking his goatee, looking thoughtful. 

“Did he say why?”

Steve shakes his head. “Just that he didn’t think it was a good idea anymore.”

“Just like that.” Sam’s head is cocked to one side. 

“Just like that.” 

“Nothing weird happened before this came up?”

Steve starts to laugh, only it turns into a half sob. _Nothing weird_. No, only that he realized Bucky is the love of his life. Only that he found heaven on Earth, and then got himself kicked out of it. 

“I’m in love with him, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes are kind. “I know you are. Did you tell him that?”

Steve leans forward and puts his face in his hands, shaking his head again. “That’s just the thing.” His voice is muffled by his hands. “I was _going_ to, and never got the chance.” He picks his head back up. “But I think he figured it out, and that’s why he backed off.”

Sam regards him doubtfully. “That’s one _possible_ explanation.”

“It’s the only explanation!” Steve says insistently. “He told me himself he can’t trust anyone, doesn’t want a relationship like that again.” He rubs his eyes tiredly. “And I fucking blew it. I wanted too much and lost him. How could I have been so stupid?”

Sam is leaning in, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “Steve.” He waits for Steve to stop railing and look at him. “You said you were going to tell him. Why did you decide to tell him now?”

Steve’s words come out as a whisper. “Because I thought he loved me.” God, he’s so dumb. And naïve. Sam should tell him how dumb and naïve he is. “I thought he loved me, and I was wrong.”

He looks at Sam in defeat, but his dark-skinned friend is shaking his head at him. “You are making assumptions not based upon any facts at all, my friend.”

Steve’s lower lip sticks out stubbornly. “No I’m not.”

Sam presses on. “What if you weren’t wrong? What if you’re right? Your instincts told you that for a reason.”

Without meaning to, Steve starts to raise his voice in frustration. “Then why would he call if off, Sam? If he’s in love with me, too, why put an end to it?”

But Sam has known Steve long enough not to take offense. He simply looks at him and speaks calmly. “Maybe because he thinks all _you_ want is a good time, and he’s protecting himself. You won’t know if you don’t talk to him and find out.”

Steve stays silent. Talk to him. Sam makes it sound so easy. Like that wouldn’t be an awkward conversation. _So, why did you want to stop fucking me? Is it because I’m in love with you and it freaks you out? Or because you’re in love with me and that freaks you out, too?_ Either way, it sounds hideous. But yeah, Steve should totally seek out that conversation. Not. 

Sam reaches out and clasps him on the knee. “You think about it for a while.” He stands up and tries to be enthusiastic to cheer him up, pumping his fists. “Now come on, let’s do some fucking _laundry_!”

That does get an almost-laugh from Steve. “Yeah. Laundry. Woo-hoo.”

\--

The next morning Steve wakes and tries to adjust to his new reality. The new reality dictating that he can’t live in that perfect bubble he was in before, in which he and Bucky had a chance for the ultimate happiness. He’s been thinking about what Sam said, but it hasn’t really changed his mind yet. Bucky was perfectly clear about what he wanted, and Steve has to respect his wishes. End of story.

He expects the coming week to be mundane, with a huge lack of Bucky… only there are other distractions and demands for his attention. When he gets in first thing Monday to the office, Maria sets upon him like a horde of locusts, wanting to know about his date. He can’t make himself go into details for her, but she is suitably sympathetic when he says things didn’t go well, and that Bucky doesn’t want to have that kind of relationship any longer.

Monday night, Steve has just gotten in his door when there is a knock. It’s Natasha, who falls on him and gives him a tender hug. 

“Steve, promise me you’re not going to go all Cyrano de Bergerac on me.”

Steve makes a face. “I have no freaking idea what that means, Nat.”

She closes the door and makes a face back at him. “Yes, you do, I made you watch the film with me and Sam.”

They slide onto the couch and Nat sits cross-legged, hugging a pillow to her chest. “You remember, the guy with the big nose, who spends his entire life in love with a woman and never tells her?”

“Are you saying I have a big nose?”

She hits him in the head with the pillow. “You know what I’m saying.”

Steve rubs his cheek where the pillow got him. “I honestly don’t know what to do at this point.”

“I’m here if you need me,” she promises, and Steve does give her a small smile. 

“Thanks, Nat.”

“Seriously, night or day.”

“Okay, thanks, Nat.” 

“And let me know if there are any developments!”

“Yes, Nat!”

\--

Tuesday night after Steve has finished dinner and is lounging on his couch with his laptop, there is another rapid, violent knock on his door, but this arrival is completely different from the one the day before. As soon as he opens up, Darcy comes storming in, brushing past him like it’s _her_ apartment. And she looks mad. As a _hornet_. 

She’s wearing casual clothes today, already having been home to change, apparently. Can’t beat someone up in stilettos? Anger shimmers off of her in waves that he can almost _see_ , like heat rising in the desert. Her hair is bushy, almost bristly, to match her temper. 

“What the ever-loving fuck, Steve?” she demands, crossing her arms in front of her.

He doesn’t even know what to say to that; he stares, eyes popping out of his head, so Darcy carries on with her tirade.

“What happened to ‘I just want him to be happy’? Huh? What happened to that?” She points a manicured finger at him. “I trusted you! I told you he had been hurt before, and you promised me!” 

Steve barely gets in a “But…” before Darcy continues. 

“And you trampled on his feelings! You shit all over him! You know, for a guy with such a hot body, you sure have a cold heart!” Her hair seems to get bigger the more she yells.

Steve feels his chin drop. That was harsh. Also, Darcy thinks he has a hot body?

“Why did you break things off with him so suddenly?” 

“What?” Steve finally gets a chance to spit out some words. “Darcy, I didn’t!”

She glares like she doesn’t believe him. “Then why has he looked like a zombie for the last two days? No, a sad zombie who wants to _cry_!” She gesticulates with her hands wildly, like she doesn’t know what to do with them. “You’re telling me you had nothing to do with that?”

Steve shifts his weight to his other foot. “There are sad zombies?”

“Don’t fucking change the subject!” Darcy thunders at him. Her hair is peaking in height, her face bright red. She’s like Mount Vesuvius, ready to blow.

Steve’s only hope is that she’s unwilling to break a nail, and will hesitate before smacking him. “I didn’t break it off with him, he broke it off with _me_ ,” he states defensively, taking a step backward just in case. 

Darcy’s mouth falls open this time. “What?”

Without conscious thought, Steve’s legs carry him over to the couch to sit down. Things are getting very confusing. “Did he tell you I was the one to do it?” 

Darcy follows him, now looking confused as well. “Wait,” she says slowly, sinking down into a chair next to him. “He broke it off?”

Steve nods. Bucky seriously looks like a sad zombie? Why would he look like a sad zombie? This was _his_ fucking idea. 

“I’m…confuzzled,” Darcy admits. She pushes back her unruly hair and her face returns to its normal color. 

“Well that’s two of us.” 

They both meditate silently for a moment, then Darcy speaks up again, this time much more sedately. “I’m sorry, Steve-O. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I thought…” she breaks off, thinking silently again.

“What did he tell you?” Steve really wants to know. He’d trade an arm and a leg for just a penny’s worth of Bucky’s thoughts, if he could get them without actually asking the man himself. 

“He wouldn’t tell me _anything_ at first,” the young woman reveals. “Two days I kept asking what was wrong, and got nothing. Then tonight, all he said was that he couldn’t be with you from now on.” She lifts her hands and shakes her head. “I thought that meant you called it off, not him.”

“I didn’t,” Steve says sadly. “So I take it you don’t know why he did, either?”

Her head shakes a second time and her brow furrows. “No. He’s shutting me out.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that, either. 

Darcy reaches out a hand to him; he takes it and she gives him a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll try to talk to him.”

\--

Wednesday night as Steve parks his car in the apartment lot, a familiar Audi rolls past and pulls into a spot three down. It’s the first time he’s seen Bucky in four days. His heart leaps into his throat as he climbs out of his car. He decides to wait for him and walk into the building together. For one thing, he can see for himself what Darcy was talking about, and for another, he’s got to figure out if he can be around his now ex-lover and not fall to pieces. 

If he can’t do it now, he’s sure as fuck not going to be able to sit next to him through an entire football game. He doesn’t want to have to trade his ticket for another game, but the possibility did cross his mind. He watches as the dark head pops up between the cars. Bucky hasn’t seen him yet, but Steve’s heart is pounding in his chest. He looks beautiful, hair back in a sloppy bun, in jeans and a plain t-shirt. 

The pain is there, poking at him, just as raw as it was over the weekend, but Steve finds he can subjugate it by thinking about what Bucky needs. And Bucky needs him to be his friend. He turns as he rounds the cars and sees Steve waiting for him. The initial, but fleeting, expression on his face is one of happiness, an instant of joy, and Steve desperately hopes and wonders if maybe Sam was right.

Bucky’s face turns down to the ground as he walks closer, and by the time he reaches Steve, it has modulated into something still pleasant, but more guarded. 

“Hi Steve,” he greets him as he draws even with him and Steve falls into step next to him.

“Hey Buck.” Steve is pleased that his voice sounds normal. _You can do this._ “How are you?” He looks sideways at him, trying to see his face without being too obvious. 

Bucky nods, looking down again. “Um…I’m good. Great. How are you?” 

_Good. Great._ Doesn’t sound like a sad zombie. So what’s really going on?

“Um…” Steve pauses. “I’m okay. You know, it’ll take a little getting used to…change, and all that…” he says vaguely. He can admit that much without sounding too pathetic, right?

Bucky nods as they enter their building and the cool interior, but looks like he’s a thousand miles away. 

_What are you thinking?_

Steve intrudes on his meditations. “You, uh, still want to go to the game this Saturday? Because if you…” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, because Bucky snaps back to attention, eyes on Steve as they start up the stairs side by side. 

“Yes,” he answers firmly. “I want to.” Then his voice sounds unsure. “Do you…do you still? Because I’ll understand if you’d rather not…”

“No,” Steve blurts out, and stops walking, forcing Bucky to stop and look at him. “I want to go with you. Look.” He has to get this out. Absentmindedly both his hands scrub through his hair. “Whatever else is going on, I meant it when I said we could still be friends. You’re my friend, and I don’t want to lose you.”

Now he sees it. The sad face Darcy was talking about. It’s really fucking sad. But it’s crossed with something sweet, too. Does Bucky feel sorry for him? Pity him? That hardens Steve’s resolve. He doesn’t want pity. _Poor Steve, that love-struck guy I had to dump._ He’s not going to be that guy; the clingy guy who ends up being despised because he can’t stop pining and making things awkward. He can’t do that to Bucky. 

“I don’t want to lose your friendship, either,” Bucky says softly.

Okay, there’s no pity in the voice. But then what’s up with the sad puppy eyes? Steve’s got butterflies fluttering around all over the place inside him and his heart feels like it’s going to be pulled out of his chest, just like in that Indiana Jones movie, the one he didn’t like. He doesn’t understand what Bucky is really thinking, but at least they got the pity thing settled. He starts moving again, reaching the top of the stairs, with Bucky still matching his strides. He can hear Sam’s voice inside his head. _You won’t know if you don’t talk to him._

“Bucky…” 

“Yes?” Bucky pauses as they turn the corner past the stairs and reach their hallway. 

Steve grapples with himself mentally. It’s a war, and currently the side that thinks he should shut his trap and stop acting like a pathetic, lovesick teenager is the one that is winning.

“Um…nothing.” _First meeting will be the worst_ , he tells himself. _It’ll be better next time._ “Okay, so, I’ll text you later about the game?”

“Yeah, great.”

Steve leaves Bucky at his door and continues down to his own, with a whirlwind of emotions swirling around inside him. Confusion. Nervousness. Disappointment. Hurt. And love. An enormous amount of love. The love and hurt battle for supremacy inside his head. For Bucky’s sake, he can’t let the hurt win. 

\--

Thursday night after work, Steve has another visitor come knocking. This time it’s Peter, bringing him their football tickets.

“What’s going on with you and Bucky?” he asks candidly as he slides onto a bar stool in Steve’s kitchen. 

Steve turns from the fridge with two beers, offering Peter one. “Nothing. _Nothing’s_ going on with me and Bucky,” he says, and reflects on how true and how untrue that statement is. “Why do you ask?” He pops the cap off his beer and takes a long pull from it. 

Peter opens his beer as well and gestures to him with it. “Well, we were biking earlier this week, and…” 

Steve puts down his drink. “You were what?”

“Bi-king,” Peter enunciates slowly. “To ride upon bicycles?” He smiles in his jackassy way. “We go biking sometimes. Anyway, he seemed really down in the dumps, but when I asked him about it, all he said was, ‘Steve,’ and then battened down tighter than a ship in a storm.” 

Steve stares at him. “He wouldn’t say anything else?”

“Nope.” Peter takes a long drink. “Not another word about it. You two have a falling out?”

“We’re still friends… I think.” Steve sounds uncertain. “Just not doing…the other stuff.”

“Oh.” Peter eyes him. “I thought you were enjoying the ‘other stuff’.”

Steve sighs deeply. “I was.”

Peter’s still eyeing him. “So it wasn’t you who put an end to it?” 

Steve swirls his beer around. “No. What day was this when you talked to him?”

“Tuesday.” 

Two days ago. Peter leans over the counter on his elbows. “When did he call it off?”

“Sunday.”

Peter squints, screwing up his face like he’s thinking hard, and it hurts. “Maybe he’s having second thoughts?” 

“I doubt that,” Steve replies in a glum voice, but he doesn’t really have a clue what’s going on. For all he knows, Bucky found someone else. Bucky fell in love with someone else. Hell, Bucky fell in love with an alien. Who knows?

Peter clinks his bottle to the side of Steve’s. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, buddy.”

They both take another drink, while Steve’s mind spins.

\--

Aside from the parade of visitors Steve has had coming in and out of his apartment, his phone also keeps him busy, with a plethora of messages from Sam, Nat, Maria, and even Thor to answer. All text him repeatedly to ask how he’s doing. He knows they mean well, but he doesn’t fucking know how he’s doing. He’s alive, he knows that much. He’s still pretty bewildered, and crushed, and doesn’t always want to talk about how lonely he feels (as his friends won’t leave him alone; ironic, he knows). Often he just types in “fine”, even when he’s not feeling fine.

After one such text on Friday afternoon, Thor turns up at his door. He marches in, takes one look at Steve and pronounces, “You’re not fine.”

Steve grumbles and follows him to his living room. “How do you know I’m not fine?”

Thor parks himself on Steve’s couch. “Because Bucky’s not fine.”

Rubbing his forehead, Steve sits down next to him. “I keep hearing how he’s not fine, but he looked plenty fine when I saw him a couple of days ago.”

Thor just grunts at him. 

“He’s the one who called it off, not me!” Steve declares.

“I can’t believe you two are just going to give up and let it end like this.”

Steve feels his hackles start to rise. “What do you want me to say, Thor? That I’m gutted? Well, I am! But what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you both to tell each other the truth. I think you’re both holding things back.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Steve fires back sarcastically. Why does everyone think if he just spills his guts, everything will be hunky dory? “Bucky specifically said he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for us to be together,” he tells the tall blond. “I don’t see how anything I say is going to change that view.”

Thor presses. “But did he say why?”

Steve frowns. “No.”

Thor gives him a head jiggle. (Really, Thor? A head jiggle?) “So don’t you want to know why? It might not be the reason you think it is.”

“Whatever the reason, the fact remains that he doesn’t want me anymore, so I might as well get used to it!” Steve stops and inhales sharply. The words cut pretty deep, hearing them come out of his own mouth. “I’m just trying to salvage the friendship, here. It’s all I can do at this point. And to keep pushing him for details will just drive him away.”

“Steve,” Thor tips his head sympathetically, “I know this sucks. And I know you’re hurting. But Bucky is hurting, too, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. You’ve got to get him to open up to you. You’re the only one who can.” 

He stands when Steve remains dubiously silent. “If he means anything at all to you, don’t let him go.” He pats Steve on the head like a mother hen and walks out, leaving Steve even more confused than ever. 

\--

Saturday morning comes, and Steve and Bucky decide they’ll have time to play basketball before heading to the football game. Their texts with each other have been informational only, but friendly in tone. Sam stops at Steve’s door to pick him up, then they both stop at Bucky’s door to pick him up, too. 

Sam looks at Steve before knocking on the door. “You ready?”

Steve grimaces at him. “Thanks for making me feel more nervous.”

He is given a gap-toothed grin. “Anytime, buddy.” Then he whispers, “You two done any talking yet? I mean, _real_ talking?”

Steve shakes his head and whispers back, “NO! I can’t do it, Sam. He doesn’t want to talk. He’s done with me. Period.”

Sam rolls his eyes and keeps whispering. “You’re going to let your pride keep you from finding out what’s really going on?”

“It’s not…” Steve starts vehemently, but is cut off when the door opens abruptly.

Bucky emerges and smiles at them. “Morning! I thought I heard you two out here. Ready to play?”

“You know it,” Sam says to him brightly.

“Where’s Zeus?” Steve peers in and sees Zeus sitting on the couch, wagging his tail so hard his butt is swaying.

Bucky looks at him, and his glance is so full of fondness it’s almost painful for Steve to see it. “Can’t put the leash on him yet, it rubs on his scab from the stitches. He’s staying in today.”

Steve finger waves goodbye to Zeus. “Oh. Okay then. See ya, Zeus!” 

Bucky pulls his door shut and they are off. Steve tries to muster up some enthusiasm, but he’s really not feeling it. He lags behind Sam and Bucky as they walk downstairs and outside, and doesn’t even enjoy staring at Bucky’s ass like he usually would. He still stares, of course, he just doesn’t enjoy it as much. Everyone turns up to play and it’s three on three. Bucky and Steve are on opposing teams, so his friends all leave him to guard Bucky, as per usual. 

Only for Steve, it’s not as per usual. He’s worried about overstepping his bounds as they play by being his typical grabby-handed, butt-blocking self. Mentally he tells himself to just pretend he’s guarding Sam or Clint, but he’s not sure how successful he’s being.

The good thing is that since everyone pretty much knows about the current development between them, nobody teases them about it. The bad thing is that Bucky notices the change in his behavior. As they are taking a water break, Bucky approaches Steve where he stands next to Sam, slurping down his water. 

“A word?” he asks, eyeing Steve and then Sam in turn. 

“Absolutely!” Sam answers back smartly, then turns and walks away, over to where the others stand some fifteen feet away.

Steve glares at his retreating back for a second, then returns his gaze to Bucky, who is regarding him uncertainly. 

“Are you… okay?” Bucky asks, and Steve almost laughs out loud. 

_No, Bucky, I’m not okay._

“Yeah, why?” he says instead, glancing at the others as they pretend not to listen in. 

Bucky’s back is to them, so they can stare all they want, and apparently they want to. Sam makes a pushing motion toward him, as if to say “Talk to him!” Again Steve glares, but is ignored by everyone except Bucky. His curious, grey-blue eyes are only for Steve. 

“It’s just…you’re different. You’re playing differently today, and I can’t help but think,” Bucky pauses, eyes dropping to the ground and then returning to his before he finishes his sentence, “…that it’s because of me.”

Steve shakes his head as Bucky continues, “Am I making you uncomfortable? Would it be better if I wasn’t here?”

“No!” Steve bursts out in a loud voice. He reaches out one hand to touch Bucky’s arm, but then thinks twice and withdraws it. “No, I want you to play. Damnit!” he says in frustration, passing a hand over his eyes. 

Bucky looks fucking miserable, like he’s sure whatever the problem is, it must be his fault, and that’s just what Steve wanted to avoid. 

“You belong here now. You shouldn’t have to stop just to avoid me. I was trying not to make _you_ uncomfortable,” Steve tells him. 

Bucky blows out a sigh and drops his gaze to the cement pad at their feet again, settling one hand on his hip. “I don’t want to _avoid you_ , I want things to be like they were.” 

Things to be like they were. Fuck. Steve wishes that, too, but in a different way. “Just…give it time, Buck. We’ll figure things out.”

That was lame, but it’s all he can come up with, and Bucky looks appeased anyway.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize,” Steve interrupts shortly. God, he can’t take Bucky apologizing for shit that is Steve’s fault, he really just can’t. He walks past him and back toward everyone else. “What are you all looking at?” he snaps, and his friends all look somewhat surprised at his tone. “Let’s play ball.”

He picks up the basketball as his companions give each other silent looks, and Bucky rejoins them. Steve can see him out of the corner of his eye, but doesn’t look directly at him. Their game continues and Steve is more aggressive with his guarding, but it’s more out of anger than anything else. Anger at the situation. Anger at himself. Why isn’t he making this work? He’s got to do better. The game does help work off some of his tension, but as soon as it’s over and he knows he and Bucky will be leaving together soon, it comes back full force. 

When they start to break up and head out, Steve takes off, making a beeline for the door to their building. Sam races behind him to catch up.

“Steve, wait up. Jeez,” he shouts, taking a few more long strides as Steve slows down in the short, cropped grass, looking behind him.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry,” he apologizes. 

Sam chucks him on the back of the head. “You are such a dumbass sometimes.” His head swivels to check Bucky’s position. He’s well back behind them, talking to Thor and Clint. Peter is heading off toward his own apartment entrance on the other side. “Can’t you see how unhappy he is, too? You two are so fucking stubborn you can’t talk to each other?”

“I don’t know what to say to him, Sam.”

Sam sighs in exasperation. “Oh, I don’t know, how about…say, the _truth_?”

Steve shakes his head. “Goddamnit, he doesn’t want to hear about flowers and sunshine and how I’m in love with him. He wants to be _friends._ That’s it.”

Keying in the code at their door, Steve pulls it open, then waits for Sam to enter first. He bounces up onto the concrete pad and goes in, flipping around midstride so he can see Steve as he talks to him. 

“I think he _does_ want to hear about flowers and sunshine. You’re just _chicken_.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not!” Steve takes the steps two at a time, with Sam flying along next to him.

“Are too, you shithead!”

They make it to the top of the stairs and speed walk down the hall. Steve stops at his door, winded, and snags his keys from his pocket. Sam breathes hard next to him and tiredly points a finger at him.

“Sooner or later, you’ll have to do it, you know.” He trots off down the hall toward his own door. Over his shoulder he fires one more parting shot. “And you know I’m right!”

Steve unlocks his door and leans against it before pushing it open; the wood feels cool on his heated body. Fucking Sam. He’s always fucking right, and Steve does know it. Sooner or later. But does he opt for sooner, or later?

\--

Game time. During his extra long shower, Steve thought about Sam’s argument, and his accusation that Steve is being a chicken. He doesn’t think so (damn you, Sam), but either way, he’s decided he needs to at least _try_ and talk to Bucky, and that the football game gives them that chance. Bucky offered to drive, so Steve hopes this will be a good time to broach the subject. Alone, no big distractions like there will be at the game itself. Also, he can watch Bucky’s face without being stared at himself, which will be perfect. 

He waits until they are on the road and have made some small talk about the game to kind of make Bucky feel comfortable. So far it’s been okay, though the feel of their conversation just lacks the heat and intensity, the closeness he used to feel, as though Bucky is hiding a little part of himself away from Steve now. _Probably to keep you at arm’s length_ , he decides. 

He clears his throat. “So…Sam thinks that maybe we should…talk about things.” Steve decided early on to throw Sam under the bus, in case the talking thing doesn’t really work out. 

Bucky’s hands are on the steering wheel, holding it lightly. His head turns minutely in Steve’s direction. “ _Sam_ thinks we should talk, huh. About what?”

Steve’s got his head angled toward Bucky in what he hopes is an inconspicuous manner. “You know, about…about the change in our relationship.” His palms are starting to sweat.

“Why do we need to talk about that?” Bucky’s hands grip the wheel a little more tightly. 

Slowly Steve rubs his hands up and down on his shorts to dry them. “So we…so we’re more comfortable around each other. Get things out in the open?”

The last part comes out sounding like a question, when he didn’t really mean it to. God, this sucks. His heart is beating so loudly in his ears, he can hardly hear Bucky speak. _I don’t want to say it._ For all his good intentions, Steve didn’t really plan out how to tell Bucky he loves him. Maybe he was hoping Bucky would just know what he was getting at, and say it’s okay, they can still be friends regardless. Maybe he was hoping there would be an earthquake, and the ground would open up and swallow him before he was forced to say it. Really, what the fuck was he thinking? He can’t tell him now. The whole rest of the game would be terrible.

“Get things out in the open,” Bucky repeats slowly. “Like what? Is there something you want to ask?” He’s carefully avoiding looking at Steve, keeping his eyes planted firmly on the road in front of them. 

_Nope. Fuck no. Not a thing._ Steve takes a few hyperventilating breaths. “Well, maybe the reason why. Why you wanted to… stop.”

_Because I know, Steve. Because I know you have feelings for me, and I told you I can’t go there. That’s why._

That’s what Steve expects to hear. Bucky’s jaw works silently, and his hands clench the wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. Finally he speaks. 

“There’s nothing to say that will make either of us feel more comfortable.”

Steve’s so lightheaded, he feels like he might pass out. Okay. Super. They don’t need to talk after all. He shrinks down in his seat, ready to admit defeat. Then he hears Sam’s voice again in his head, urging him not to turn back now. 

He closes his eyes and reminds himself to take deeper breaths, slowly so Bucky won’t hear him breathing like a wildebeest. “Maybe it needs to be said anyway?” No matter how painful it is, he’s got to hear it, or say it. One way or another, it’s got to come out. 

Bucky glances at him quickly, but Steve can’t really read the expression in his eyes. His face looks closed off, withdrawn.

“Or maybe if we’re going to get past this, we need to _stop_ talking about it. Sam ever think of that?” His lips are pressed together, words spoken with a certain finality to them. 

“Sam’s nosy,” Steve says faintly, sitting back in his seat and looking away from the man in the driver’s seat. _Sorry, Sam._

That actually gets a laugh. “Sam’s nosy,” Bucky repeats, seeming to enjoy that comment. “God, I’m sorry for being such a dick.” He washes his hand over his face, one hand still on the wheel. “I just don’t think it will help right now, Steve. Can we try time, like you said earlier? Maybe we just need time.”

“Sure,” Steve agrees timidly, still looking out the passenger side window at the scenery flashing past the car. In a way he’s disappointed not to get more closure, and in a way thrilled not to have his embarrassment thrown up in his face. They are quiet for a moment, but it’s not too awkward. Steve uses the time to silently count backward from one hundred and try and calm his thundering nerves. He gets down to fifty-two before the pony-tailed man next to him speaks again. 

Bucky breaks the silence by asking Steve about playing football as a kid. Nothing like sharing stories from the past to lighten the mood, and it does work. Steve does feel better for having made the attempt at conversation, though he doubts Sam will be impressed with his progress. He is able to relax more, and the same seems to go for Bucky; after looking so tense during the questioning, his shoulders appear loose and he glances at Steve periodically with his normal, genuine smile on his face as they talk.

The rest of the day passes with a similar feel. General conversation is less stilted between them, though still a bit reserved compared to previous days. The hurt that sits on Steve’s chest is ever-present, but it’s controlled. They have a good time together, and that’s more than Steve could have really hoped for at this point. 

He looks at Bucky, sitting next to him with a beer and bratwurst in hand. A million things run through his mind. The first time Bucky kissed him. The last time Bucky kissed him. He does remember that movie, Cyrano de Bergerac. Natasha loves old black and white films, and in the spirit of not suffering alone, Sam sometimes would trap him and make him watch with them. Cyrano loved a woman but never told her because he was sure she couldn’t love him back. Is it like that with him and Bucky? 

Bucky turns to him and offers him some of his curly fries. Steve takes one and pops it into his mouth. _Maybe this is as good as it’s going to get_ , he thinks. _Maybe I’ll always love him, just from a distance._ Maybe that has to be good enough.


	14. TGIF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a loooooong week for Steve, and he's looking forward to cutting loose at Thor and Clint's party on Friday. Maybe too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before anyone throws anything at me, hey look, an extra chapter!

Chapter Fourteen

As expected, Sam is slightly less than impressed with Steve’s attempt at talking things out with Bucky. 

“Steve. Of course he’s not going to volunteer everything without some cajoling. How hard were you really trying?”

They’re sitting out on his balcony, soaking in the last rays of sun before it sets, appreciating the warm Indian summer weather. Steve flaps his hands. “It’s hard, Sam! It’s really hard! I don’t want to push him to talk about something he doesn’t want to talk about.”

Sam nods but doesn’t back down. “There are things you both don’t want to talk about. You’re going to have to give him something first.”

Steve is thinking about that when he hears the sliding glass door at the apartment below open and shut. 

“Hey, you two up there?”

It’s Clint, hollering up from the ground floor. 

Sam stands and leans over the wrought iron rail. “Yeah!”

“Great, I’m coming up.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at Sam. “He means he’s going inside and coming around, right?”

Sam grins. “Nope.” 

There is a substantial amount of noise as something metal is dragged across concrete, then silence, then some grunting. The short brown hair of Clint’s head appears on the outside of the railing, close to the wall on Sam’s side of the balcony.

“What the hell!” Steve exclaims, laughing. 

He climbs the rest of the way up and hauls his stocky frame over the rail, landing with a thud on his feet. “Ta-da!” He holds his arms out like he’s done a trick. 

Steve looks at Sam. “He’s done this before?”

“Course I have!” Clint scoffs and takes a seat next to Steve. “All you have to do is find a chair to stand on and get your toes in between the bricks on the wall. It’s easy!”

“And entire seconds faster than walking all the way down both halls and up the stairs, I might add,” Sam interjects as he sits down in his chair again. 

Shaking his head, Steve smiles at them both. “Whatever floats your boat, Clint.”

His enterprising friend reaches into the back pocket of his dark blue board shorts. “Here, I made you something.” He pulls out a piece of paper, folded into fourths. “Sam said you were having trouble figuring things out, so I did a statistical analysis for you.” 

He holds out the piece of paper and Steve takes it, unfolding it with his interest piqued. There is a large circle made of different colored wedges, and some print in each wedge. It’s a pie chart. 

“You made me a pie chart?”

“I made you a pie chart!” Clint looks pleased with himself. 

Sam guffaws a little. “What’s it say?”

Steve reads the page out loud, starting with the heading at the top. “Ranked Percentages-Why Bucky Ditched Steve.” He drops the paper in his lap. “Seriously, Clint?” 

“Just read it!” he insists. “This is highly researched!” 

Sighing, Steve picks it back up. He starts off with the largest wedge and goes down the line. The percentages read:

65%- Running Scared Because He Loves You  
30%- Huge Crush On Clint  
2%- Really Just Wanted Sex, No Feels  
2%- Axe Murderer  
1%- Discovered He’s Not Really Gay

Steve rolls his eyes. So clearly, Clint is in cahoots with Sam and Thor to try and convince him to confess his feelings. “You guys just won’t give up, will you,” he complains. 

They both shake their heads. 

He examines the remaining wedges again. “Wait a minute,” he protests, “There’s a two percent chance he’s an axe murderer and only one percent that he’s not gay?”

Clint and Sam both nod, and Clint says seriously, “Statistically possible, Steve.”

Steve puts the paper down again. “And a thirty percent chance he has a crush on you.”

Clint shrugs and jokes, “Well, you’ve seen me, right?”

Steve’s shoulders shake as he chuckles. He recognizes Clint’s efforts to cheer him up, as well as push Sam’s agenda. He waves the paper at both of them. “I’ll keep it in mind, okay?” 

\--

“Bucky, I know you said we need time, but there’s something I really need to tell you.”

It’s the next day and they’ve been sitting out on Steve’s balcony on two chaise lounges, enjoying that weird stillness that comes in pre-thunderstorm weather. The sky almost looked green but is now darkening, and they’ll probably, no, definitely, have to move things inside soon. Tall, dark storm clouds are stretched across the horizon and moving briskly their way. The wind has started to pick up, whipping Bucky’s long hair this way and that around his face. 

“Didn’t we go over this already?” Bucky sounds nervous, but Steve is resolute. 

“Please just hear me out?”

Bucky looks unsure, but relents. “Okay. What is it?” He makes a futile effort to tuck his hair back behind both ears, but the wind ruthlessly drags it back out again. 

Steve tries to screw up his courage. He’s been practicing for days; what he should say, when he should say it. He walked down to Bucky’s door three times but then scuttled back to his own place of safety, without ever having knocked on the door. Finally, Bucky came to see him to ask about resuming their golf outings, so Steve decided to seize the opportunity. 

Now he’s just got to do the seizing. 

He takes a deep breath. “I know when we got together, we agreed it would only be friends with benefits, but along the way, I… something else happened.”

Bucky eyes him warily. “What happened?”

Steve’s chest is thumping madly. There’s a sound like a stampede in his ears. “I developed feelings for you.” Cautiously he looks at Bucky’s face, hoping to see something that looks like relief, or happiness. 

Instead, he can’t read his face at all. Is it worry? Shock? Disappointment? Bucky’s blue eyes are round and fixated on him, tanned cheeks pale except for two red spots high up on his cheekbones. He’s staggeringly beautiful. _Please let this be what he wants to hear._

“You…what?” Bucky leans forward, and his lips are parted, breaths shallow. “What did you say?” 

“I’m saying I fell in love with you.” Steve can’t feel his toes. His voice sounds strange to his own ears. His lungs are being squeezed inside his chest. “I’m saying I love you.”

There. He said it. He scrunches his eyes shut and then opens them.

Bucky, his precious Bucky, rises from his chair and comes to kneel at his feet. Can this be it? The declaration he’s wanted to hear? 

“Steve…” 

Oh God, there’s something in that tone he doesn’t like. Bucky looks up at him tenderly, but somehow Steve doesn’t like that either. 

“I don’t…I don’t feel that way for you. I’m sorry.” There is sorrow etched onto his face, as if he knows what he’s saying will destroy Steve, but he can’t avoid saying it. “I thought I could stop it before it went too far, to save our friendship. I didn’t want to hurt you.” He waits for Steve to say something…anything, but for Steve, no words come. 

How can there be any words? Regret and horror and agony have overwhelmed him, filled him up and threatened to rip him limb from limb, all in the span of seconds. He was right. The tears spring to his eyes, unbidden, but he tries to blink them away. Bucky _doesn’t_ love him. Bucky will never love him. Everything in his heart was just laid bare, exposed and vulnerable, and he was turned away. There’s nothing he can say. 

Slowly Bucky pushes himself up to a stand. “Steve…I’m sorry. You mean a lot to me, but…not like that.” As he steps back away from Steve, his eyes are soft, gentle, honestly devastated at having to tell him the awful truth, pleading for understanding that he didn’t want to have to do this. 

Suddenly the rain comes, driving down in hard sheets, stinging his skin. Still he can’t move; he’s numb and in a stupor. The rain pelts him, soaking him to the bone, darkness falling so thick he can’t even see Bucky in front of him anymore. 

“Bucky!” he yells into the wind. It’s so dark and cold, he’s shivering. He feels like he’ll never stop shivering. 

And then suddenly he wakes in his bed, sheets tangled around him, skin damp with a clammy, cold sweat. Another nightmare. He’s been having them nightly, and they’re just getting worse. Screw Sam, Clint, and Thor. Steve’s not about to go through the live version of that dream, so confessions are off the table right now, thank you very much. He runs his hands through his sweat-soaked hair and kicks off his sheets. 

_Thank goodness it’s almost Friday_ , he thinks as he trudges into his bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. Thor and Clint are having a beer-tasting party for some of their new concoctions. For Steve, it’s just what the doctor ordered. A chance to kick back and relax, take his mind off his troubles. 

Yes, Bucky will be there, but Steve thinks with the whole group together, it won’t be stressful for them. They made it through the football game pretty well. Hopefully it will help them regain the easy camaraderie they once had. He misses that terribly. Along with the other four hundred and thirty-six things about Bucky that he misses. But as much as he does pine for him secretly, he’s not going to press for a conversation like the one in his dream. Fuck that. 

Later on that day after Steve gets home from work, he’s just thinking about how the party will be a stress-reliever, and how he’s definitely NOT going to try and strike up a deep, soul-searching conversation with Bucky, when his cell phone rings. It’s Darcy.

“Hey Steve-O! How are you?”

Steve plops down on his couch on his back. He thinks of several possible responses but settles for a perfunctory, “Fine.”

There is a brief pause, then Darcy’s voice again. “Is that a bunch of BS?”

Well, no point in denying it. “Yes.”

She sighs. “Well, Bucky is a hot mess, just so you know, no matter what he tells you.”

“What?” Steve throws one arm up over his head onto the pillow behind him, and crosses his ankles to get comfy. “We were just at a football game together, and he told me he was great.”

“He’s lying, Steve-O.” Her voice is loud and insistent. “He’s been dodging me all week to try and avoid talking to me, but I finally got him cornered today, and he’s as unhappy as I’ve ever seen him.”

Steve pops up into sitting. “Why? Darcy,” he swings his feet back down to the ground. “Why should he be unhappy? This was his idea.”

“I know that. You just have to trust me on this. You’ve got to make him talk to you.”

Steve moans into the phone. “I’ve been having nightmares about that all week.”

“What? Nightmares? No.” There is a pause and a rustle as she switches ears. “I promise you, whatever you think is going on is not what’s really going on. Don’t let him clam up on you. Make him talk!”

Steve is quiet as he absorbs this advice. Fear prickles at his insides; fear of more rejection, fear that he’ll push Bucky farther away from him. 

“Steeeeeeeeeeeeve.” Darcy draws his name out, concerned by and dismayed at his lack of reply. 

“I don’t know, Darcy. I’ll try.”

It’s pretty weak as assurances go but it’s something, so she backs off. “Okay. Go get ‘im. You won’t regret it, I _swear_!”

“Thanks, Darcy.”

_Thank you all for confusing the fucking hell out of me. Bucky, what are you doing to me?_

\--

Thank God it’s Friday. Steve has never wanted one of those bumper stickers that say TGIF more than he does today. The week has been rough; not only is it his second week without Bucky, it’s been a week full of contradictions, nightmares and general shitty feels. Damn, those nightmares. Steve reasons he must have slept last night since he had more bad dreams, but felt this morning like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. 

Yesterday and today he skipped his usual morning shave, so he’s got some scruff on his face. Probably he looks a bit rough, but who cares. He’ll shave next week before seeing clients. All day long he kept checking the clock, waiting for the time he could check out for the weekend. Tony and Maria were concerned about him, but didn’t hover in an annoying way. They just offered their support and understanding. 

It’s nice to have friends like that, and Steve never underestimates their value and importance. It’s one of the reasons he’s so determined to keep Bucky’s friendship. Well, that and the whole being in love with him thing. Steve shakes his head to clear it as the three of them exit their building and head for their cars. It’s much cooler today, feeling more like early fall, but still sunny with some white, fluffy clouds piled up.

Maria reaches out to him one more time before they part ways, her dark hair shining in the sun. “Now, Steve, if you need anything, just call me!”

“Likewise, pal,” Tony puts in as he sets a pair of sunglasses on his face, and Steve gives them both a smile. 

“Thanks guys, I’ll be fine.”

Tony snorts. “You’re a rotten liar, Steve.”

They wave and head out for the weekend, Maria in her bright red Mini Cooper and Tony in his black Explorer. Steve turns the radio in his car up super loud during the drive home and tries to think about nothing at all. It doesn’t work, but he tries. Finally after a shower and a quick dinner of leftover beef stroganoff, he can walk down to Thor’s apartment. Even if he’s early, Thor and Clint won’t mind. They’ll be tinkering with their brews and just hanging out. Perfect.

When Steve arrives in his old, worn jeans and his favorite AC/DC V-neck t-shirt, he is the first guest—as expected. Thor hands him a drink immediately. He is similarly clad in jeans with holes in both knees and an ancient concert shirt with a frayed hem; in large letters on the back it reads _Depeche Mode_.

“Here, you probably need this.” He pushes the bottle into Steve’s waiting hands. 

Clint jumps over the back of the sectional, sits down on the end closest to Steve, and clinks his bottle against his. “How ya doin’ man? Boycotting shaving?”

Sinking down onto a chair, Steve feels tension start to drain out of him. “It’s been a rough week.”

“Well take a load off!” Thor booms from the kitchen. “Tonight is for relaxing.”

Clint slides closer. He’s wearing a Star Trek shirt with the little insignia on the front.

“Clint, you are such a geek. Where did you get that shirt, a nerd convention?”

Clint beams and nods. “Last year’s. It was _awesome_.” 

Steve slides his eyes upward. Clearly his idea of awesome and Clint’s do not match up. 

Leaning in, Clint says confidentially, “There’s one thing we do need to talk about.”

Steve groans. “No, we don’t.”

Clint nods. “Yes, we do.”

“Go easy on me, I’m begging you,” Steve implores him and rolls his eyes to the ceiling, sure he’s about to receive yet another lecture on his love life. 

“We’re just concerned, as your friends, about your life choices, Rogers.”

“Uuuggghhhhhh,” Steve moans and drops his head down, chin on his chest.

“We’re only saying this for your own good.” Clint pauses to add weight to his next words. “Your fantasy team sucks.” 

Steve’s shoulders shake as he chuckles with relief. “Oh, is that all? Thanks, Clint.”

“No problem. If you need a fantasy tutor, that can be arranged.”

“You’re a rock star.”

“I know,” Clint jokes, and leans back with his beer, smiling.

It won’t be the first time he gets insulted for his fantasy team that night. In fact, pretty much everyone insults him for his fantasy team, because he’s in last place. Dead last. 

No biggie, though. Taking some shit about his team is easy…and familiar (Steve has never won their league). In his current mellow state, insults roll right off his back anyway. 

By the time Bucky arrives, coming in just after Scott, Sam and Natasha, Steve is already almost finished with his third beer. Clint has had four, so they’re both feeling _very_ relaxed. Life is good. 

Taking a seat next to Clint, Bucky rubs his hand over his chin. He’s sporting the same scruff Steve is. His hair is down around his face, soft-looking and shiny. He’s got on jeans like everyone else and an army green shirt that says M*A*S*H on it, stretched tight across his fantastic pecs. 

“I love that show,” Steve gushes when Bucky turns his way.

Bucky smiles. “Me too. So how’s it going?” 

Steve holds up his bottle and grins at him. “It’s going great! Clint, you two really outdid yourselves with this batch!” 

“We’re livin’ the dream!” Clint hollers, holding up his own drink. He look at Bucky’s hairy face. “You boycotting shaving, too?”

“Uhh, not exactly…” Bucky says vaguely.

“You should,” Clint tells him, nodding his head sagely. “Very sexy.”

Bucky blushes and it’s the cutest thing Steve has ever seen. He giggles at it, and Bucky turns an even brighter shade of red. 

Steve giggles some more. Seriously, how much alcohol is _in_ these home brews? He feels warm and cozy inside, like all his troubles are miles away. Bucky looks good enough to eat. And Steve does have the munchies. 

“Clint is such an expert on giving men advice about how to look sexy,” he jokes.

Bucky laughs, looking back and forth between the two of them, and the empty bottles sitting on the end table. “Looks like you two started happy hour early.”

Thor appears out of nowhere, claps the newcomer on the back, and hands him a beer. “Now be careful, Bucky, Clint and I may have gone overboard on the grain alcohol percentage with this batch.”

“NO WAY!” Clint and Steve both yell simultaneously, as Thor picks up the empties and disappears again into the kitchen.

“JINX!” Clint shouts, a second later. He points at Steve. “I love you, man.”

“Right back at ya!” Steve points as well. 

Clint turns up one hand and shakes his head. “I just jinxed you, Steve, you can’t talk until I release you!”

Steve looks down his nose. “Well then release me, ‘cuz I want to talk to my friend Bucky here.”

Bucky’s laughter grows louder, and is so infectious to Steve that he laughs again, too. God, it feels good to see Bucky laugh, to be near him. Maybe it’s the booze working on his brain, but he feels like maybe tonight he could regain that feeling of closeness that they lost. Tonight, he can say anything to him, and Bucky will understand. Isn’t booze a wonderful invention? 

Peter is the last to arrive at the party; he enters holding a giant ball of Saran Wrap and is wearing a shirt that says, “I’d rather be hang gliding”. Bucky is the only one surprised by the ball of clear plastic wrap with darker objects obscured in the interior, however, since Peter has made this a little tradition, starting the first year they all went in for season tickets together. At the center of the ball is the most desirable pair of football tickets they have—the big divisional rival game. 

As soon as Clint lays eyes on the huge ball of wrap, he yells out, “Thor, get the dice!”

Steve turns to Bucky, who understandably looks confused. “Wondering about the ball?” Steve asks him. 

“Yeah.”

“One person starts unwrapping the ball, fast as they can. The person next to him keeps rolling the dice until he gets doubles. When he does, he passes the pair of dice to the next person and gets the ball himself to unwrap.”

“Or herself!” Natasha interjects, raising her hand and tossing her red hair over her shoulder.

“Yeah, herself, sorry Nat!” Steve adds.

Thor comes in from the kitchen with a pair of dice. “And whoever gets to the center of the ball gets the Grand Prize,” he informs Bucky, shaking the dice inside his closed hand and biting his bottom lip. 

Bucky looks back at Steve. “The tickets Peter held back?” 

Steve lays his index finger along his nose and points at him to signify he’s correct. 

“You guys are weird,” Bucky pronounces with a smile. 

Steve, now feeling somewhat uninhibited, fires back, “But that’s why you love us, right?”

Bucky gives him a look, but is then distracted by Natasha, who pushes the ottoman more into the center of the space and speaks his name. Clint has hopped up to grab a large tray they can use to roll the dice on.

“I think Bucky should start unwrapping first, because he’s new to the league,” she suggests.

Bucky jumps right on that idea. “Yes! But next year it should be whoever wins week one.” 

Sam laughs. “You mean you.”

“Coincidentally, yes!” Bucky answers. Bucky is also still winning the season, but Steve doesn’t see any reason to bring that up. 

Steve grabs the dice, everyone sits in a circle around the ottoman with the tray on top, and they’re off. Steve half watches the rolls of his dice and half watches Bucky as he starts unrolling the Saran Wrap. Four rolls in and the first treat is revealed—a giant Snickers. 

“There’s candy in here?” Bucky asks, and Steve grins at him. 

He left out that part on purpose, but knowing Peter, there’s a whole bunch of candy in there. In fact, Bucky gets to a pack of gum also before his turn is up, because it’s taking Steve forever to roll doubles. Finally he does, and pushes the pair of dice over to Natasha. 

After receiving the ball from Bucky, Steve starts unwrapping furiously. Natasha, however, rolls double sixes on her second try, so Steve gets nothing on his first turn. He pouts, sticking out his lower lip, and hears a sympathetic, “Awwww,” from his dark-haired neighbor.

Bucky’s already torn open the wrapper on his Snickers bar, but hasn’t taken a bite. “Want some?” he kindly offers.

He holds it out to Steve, who can’t help smiling. Snickers bars are his favorite. Holding it by the wrapped end, he tears off a small chunk and pops it into his mouth, chewing happily. On the inside he’s not just smiling, he’s dancing a jig. Bucky being so nice to him makes him feel like a million bucks. It’s almost like nothing changed between them, like they _can_ still be close friends. Of course that’s not all he wants, but it’s better than nothing. 

“Thanks, Buck,” he mumbles around all the chocolate, and licks his fingers, sliding them in and out of his mouth one by one. 

He feels Bucky’s eyes on him, but when he looks back up, the gaze on him has moved to Natasha. She’s gotten a Three Musketeers bar, just before Sam scores doubles and passes the pair of dice on. They make it around the circle two more times before reaching the end, with ropes of Saran Wrap trailing all over the floor and their laps. Steve just misses out on his last turn. 

As he unrolls in a frenzy, Clint yells out encouragement. “Come on, Steve, faster! Don’t let Nat and Sam get the tickets again this year!”

The ball is getting smaller and smaller, but Natasha hits before he can get all the way to the end.

“Damn!” Steve shouts when she rolls snake eyes and lets out a loud _”YESSS!”_

“Awww, tough luck.” Sam says sarcastically and clucks his tongue, taking the pair of dice from his girlfriend.

“Shut up, Sam,” Steve grumbles playfully. 

Everyone knows Natasha will take Sam with her, and she only has to unroll for about ten seconds before she whoops and hold up two tickets. 

“Damnit,” curses Bucky next to him. “I wanted those tickets.”

“You shut up too,” Steve berates him and downs the last of his beer. “At least you got four candy bars.” 

Bucky laughs; Natasha had rolled doubles almost immediately every time Steve got the ball, so he has nothing to show for his efforts. Bucky leans in and taps him on the knee. 

“You should probably eat something, Steve,” he advises. “Thor told me these things have twice as much alcohol in them as a regular beer, and how many have you had?”

“Pfffft, not enough,” is Steve’s only comment, but he does accept the half of a Twix bar that Bucky holds out to him and pounds it down in two quick bites. 

“That was good,” he says. “Now I can have more beer!” 

Bucky shakes his head, grinning.

“Hey Steve! Come over here!” 

Clint has moved into the kitchen and is yelling at him from there, so Steve reluctantly gives up his comfy spot next to his ex-lover and heads for a barstool. He’s not even mad that Clint just wants him to see the new coasters Thor picked up from some geeky store, with more Star Trek geeky stuff on them. He’s got the rest of the night to socialize, and he’s feeling pretty groovy. Not enough to be sloppy drunk, just enough for a good buzz. After all, he’s earned some R & R, in his opinion. Sam slides over onto the barstool next to his.

“How’s it going, Steve?”

“Fan-damn-tastic!” Steve declares. “I haven’t felt this good all week.”

“Well, I’m glad for that. I know it’s been stressful for you.” Sam claps him on the back. “I’m also glad you’re not driving anywhere tonight.”

“Haha!” Steve fake-laughs, and shoves his shoulder into Sam’s. “Only a short crawl home.”

Sam chuckles and shakes his head. “Try not to let it come to that, huh?”

“Don’t worry, Sam. I’m not that far gone.”

Clint chimes in. “You can always crash here, Steve, if you can’t make it up the stairs. Thor won’t mind.”

“You know he snores really loudly,” Sam jokes, and Clint barks out a short laugh.

“That’s why I didn’t say he could crash at my place.” 

Clint and Sam fist bump. Steve steals the unopened bottle of beer Clint just produced from the fridge and walks away with it before either of them can stop him. One more won’t hurt, and Clint’s still ahead of him. Why not live a little?

Steve does slow way down after that last beer, though. He’s definitely drunk, but able to talk without slurring any words. He considers that a major accomplishment. The next hour they spend is an enjoyable mix of conversation and eating the munchies thoughtfully provided by their hosts. Getting some food in his belly helps to prevent him from getting completely bombed and embarrassing himself, too. Bonus!

Steve is mowing through some potato chips when he asks Thor, “Why does food taste so much better when you’re drunk?”

Thor chuckles and takes the bag away from him. “I don’t know; why don’t you go ask Sam? He’s out on the patio, and he was looking for you.”

Steve lifts his eyebrows. “He was looking for me? But I’m right here!”

Thor points to the sliding glass doors. “Well, go out there!”

“Okay,” Steve cheerily agrees. 

Fresh air sounds good, anyway. He walks to the sliding doors with Thor in tow, pulls one open and steps outside. Thor slides the door shut behind him and waves from the inside, then pulls the vertical blinds shut as well, effectively blocking out the party going on inside. Steve thinks that’s weird, but whatever. He turns around to look for Sam, and it takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light out here. 

There’s a man standing on the far edge of the patio, but it’s not Sam. It’s Bucky. He was looking out away from the building, but turned in at the sound of Steve coming out. Steve’s heart jumps. He’s so beautiful. _Bucky_. Now that they’re alone, he feels Bucky’s presence so much more acutely. What did he want to tell him earlier? There were things he wanted to share.

“Hi Steve.” The voice sounds surprised. 

“Hey Buck!” Steve chirps. Oh yeah! He remembers now. “I just want to tell you, I’ve got it all figured out now.” He takes a step out away from the door behind him. 

“Got what figured out?” Bucky sounds curious and cautious at the same time.

“What to do to keep things right!” Steve explains. “I can be just like that guy…Cyrano…Cyrano de…,” he pauses and thinks. What was his last name? Oh, screw it. “That guy with the big nose.”

Bucky is staring at him in confusion. “Cyrano de Bergerac?”

“Yessss!” Steve points. “That’s the guy!”

Bucky sets his bottle of beer down. Near as Steve can tell, he’s only had one or two the entire night. Not much of a party animal, that Bucky.

“Steve, you don’t have a big nose.”

“NO!” Steve laughs. “Not the nose part. I mean, I can just love you from afar. You’ll never even know it, I promise. It won’t be weird at all.” Damn, this conversation is so easy. Why didn’t he want to tell Bucky before? 

Bucky takes two steps toward him. The light that is sneaking through the blinds is reflecting in his eyes. Those gorgeous eyes.

“What did you just say?” His voice is low and urgent. Maybe Steve didn’t say it loud enough.

“I said I’ll just love you from afar. That way I won’t bother you,” Steve repeats, feeling like he’s being very helpful and articulate. The best friend ever!

Bucky seems distressed, though. His hands go up, palms covering his eyes, and there is a low moaning sound escaping him, like a tire that’s leaking some air. “ _Jesus Christ_ , Steve. How drunk are you?”

Steve tips his head to one side. “Not very. Do you want me to be more drunk?” He’s perfectly willing to down a few more, if it would make Bucky happy. Personally, he thinks he’s had enough. 

“No!” Bucky shouts. “God, Steve!” Now he sounds sort of mad, and it’s confusing. The conversation was going so well just a second ago. Bucky goes on, pulling at his hair. “You say that, just like…I mean, are you even going to remember this conversation tomorrow?” He starts pacing back and forth. “Do you even _know_ what you do to me?” 

Watching him makes Steve a little dizzy, so he reaches out and catches him by both wrists to stop him. “Buck, stop. It’ll be good, I promise.”

Only Bucky doesn’t just stop pacing. He pushes Steve back against the brick wall of the building, hands on his chest. “Say it again,” he demands.

What were they just talking about? Bucky shoving him up against the wall was a little arousing. Okay, a lot arousing, so Steve’s having trouble focusing. “You mean that I love you?” He likes having Bucky’s hands on him again. As long as that’s allowed right now, he’s going to play, too. He grips the big brunet at his hips, and is surprised when Bucky tips his head forward and presses his forehead to Steve’s. 

“Goddamnit,” Bucky moans, “Why are you making this so hard? You’re making this so _hard_. I’ve missed you so much, but I can’t…” His hands are shaking, but slide their way up from Steve’s chest to cup his face and touch his neck. Steve sways just a little and Bucky moves with him, keeping their foreheads in contact with each other. 

Steve closes his eyes. God, having Bucky’s hands on him again, it just feels so good. His pulse has shot up to maybe two hundred beats per minute, and he knows he made a whimpering sound when Bucky’s fingers touched him. “Why is it hard for you, Buck?” He really wants to know. “I’m the one who lost you.” He shakes his head against Bucky’s. “It’s hard for me, not you.” Why isn’t Bucky understanding this?

The hands on the sides of his face tighten their grip. Bucky’s mouth is almost against Steve’s when he speaks again. “Steve.” He sounds desperate, needy. “I wish I could know you mean this. You don’t know…you don’t know what it’s been like. How I’ve ached for you.” 

Every part of Steve that is being touched by his former lover feels like it’s being electrocuted. Hot desire spikes, racing through him at breakneck speed, burning off his alcohol haze faster than he would have believed possible. He runs his hands up and down Bucky’s sides once and then settles them at his hips, to never let him get away again. What was he saying about loving Bucky from afar? Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter. This right here, this is so much better. 

“I know it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve touched me,” Steve whispers. Bucky’s hot breath is on his lips, they’re so close, and their noses bump together. He wants…he needs him, so very badly. “Kiss me,” he pleads softly. “Kiss me, Buck. I need you so much.”

Their foreheads are still pressed together, their mouths only a centimeter apart. They’re so close, he can almost taste him. They share a few silent, shallow breaths, while Bucky’s fingers slowly slide back into Steve’s hair and dig in there, waiting, as if he’s not sure he should give in to those desires. 

“Please,” Steve begs one more time. That does it. Bucky’s lips are on his, kissing him, hard and fast, so wild, so passionate, he could cry. It feels like it’s been forever since he last savored him; Bucky’s tongue delves deeply into his mouth and he’s making a soft moaning sound from the back of his throat. Steve crushes Bucky’s body to his. Every bit of contact he can get still isn’t enough. Bucky’s hands are in his hair, on the wall behind them, on his shoulders. Steve’s hands climb up his back, down over his ass, hugging him to him, grabbing him everywhere. 

They kiss like it may be the last one they ever share, full of love and lust and hunger, until Steve’s sure he’s going to spontaneously combust. Bucky pushes him back into the wall hard, so that the rough surface of the brick digs into his back. Bucky’s tongue twists around his, licking into him brazenly; he tastes like beer and chocolate. His lips, plump, hot and wet, slide over Steve’s, while his bearded scruff scrapes against his. It’s painful and divine and so enchanting he never wants it to stop. 

But it does stop. Bucky suddenly pulls away from him and stares into his eyes, breathless. 

“Bucky,” Steve finally finds the courage he’s been looking for. “Why did you leave me?”

Bucky’s fingers touch Steve’s lips, like he’s relishing his touch, or maybe trying to shush him. Steve’s brain is too foggy to know the difference. 

“Steve,” Bucky says, voice breaking, “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have…I don’t know if I can do this…” 

He pulls out of Steve’s arms, turns and disappears into the darkness. 

“Bucky!” Steve calls out, but there’s no reply. There’s no nothing. He’s alone again, confused again, and it’s a hundred times worse than any of his nightmares…


	15. Kiss And Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor comforts Steve after a not-so-successful conversation on the patio. Steve takes his drunk self home and sobers up, planning on talking to Bucky again the next day. Only Bucky is a no-show...but not for long. Things get said that need to be said. Cards get laid on the table. And the winner is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ColorCoated -- just keeping up my end of the bargain!  
> And elves_n_angels -- you know what you did. 
> 
> With the holiday coming I didn't want to leave the boys hanging like that, so here we go! Only one chapter left, but since I really can't say goodbye yet, I am planning on either some back-dated chapters or maybe a companion piece that is Bucky-centric.

Chapter Fifteen

Steve’s first instinct when Bucky takes off is to follow him, but he really needs a minute to process what happened, so instead he sits down on one of Thor’s patio chairs. What did just happen? He tries to remember what Bucky said exactly—that Steve was making this so hard. And that he ached for him. And that he didn’t know if he could do…what? And that _kiss_. It was crazy hot. He scratches his scruffy chin as he considers things. His head feels heavy. He’s been going on the assumption that Bucky really only wants to be friends, that he was wrong when he thought Bucky loved him. 

What if he wasn’t wrong? What if Bucky _does_ love him? A spark of hope flares up inside him, but his alcohol-addled brain doesn’t know if he should be excited or worried by this possibility. Why did Bucky leave? Because he can’t get past what happened to him in his last relationship? Maybe should have stuck to the Cyrano scenario. He’s still thinking about this when the sliding door opens and Thor passes through, pulling it shut and settling his massively built body in the chair next to his. He sets his beer down on the table in between them.

“Where did he go?” he asks kindly, and Steve shakes his head. 

“You mean _Sam_ or Bucky?” 

Thor smiles guiltily. “Bucky. I thought you two could use some alone time.”

“He took off,” Steve shares in a dejected tone. 

“What happened?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “I told him.” He looks at Thor in the dim light and sees concern and anticipation written across his face. “I told him that I love him.”

Thor’s face lifts. “And?”

Steve’s face drops. “And he thought I was too drunk to know what I was saying.” He shakes his head again, burying his face in his hands. “I feel awful. This is awful.”

“No, Steve, it’s not awful,” Thor insists, but his tone is gentle. 

Steve snorts into his hands and lifts his head. “He RAN. How is that not awful?” 

“Did he say anything before the running part?” 

“He said…he said he didn’t know if he could do it. And he kissed me.” Steve bites his lip. He’s had too much to drink, and his brain is fuzzy. “What does that even mean?” He looks at Thor, feeling like he can’t get much lower than he is right now, but Thor looks back at him like there’s a chance. 

“It means he’s not quite ready to talk yet…but there’s still something he needs to talk about. He just hasn’t arrived yet. But I’m proud of you, Steve.” He smiles and shakes Steve’s knee with one large hand. “I’m proud you opened up to him.”

Steve still isn’t convinced. “What good did it do? He still took off.” He snags Thor’s beer from the table and takes a long chug from it. He’s drunk already, but what the hell. 

“Do you think he kissed you because he doesn’t have any feelings for you?”

Frowning, Steve contemplates this. It feels like a trick question. “Um…no?” He deserves another swallow of beer for coming up with an answer to that, so he takes a swig. 

“No. He kissed you because he _does_ have feelings for you. I know he does. Now I guess he just needs to talk to you again when you’re both sober.”

“You think?” Steve asks uncertainly, hope creeping into his voice. He desperately needs someone to tell him things will be alright.

“Yes, I think.”

Steve drains the rest of Thor’s beer and looks at the bottle label curiously. “What’s this one? It tastes a lot different from the other.”

Thor looks a bit stunned. “Wait, have you been drinking the dark one all night?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, it’s fantastic!”

Thor laughs. “No wonder Bucky thought you were completely blasted. That’s the one loaded with alcohol.”

Steve shrugs. “Still tasted great.” 

“And so….you won’t be ready to talk to Bucky again any time tonight,” Thor announces with a crooked smile. “Tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow!” Steve agrees, holding up his beer in a salute. “If he’ll even speak to me.”

“Of course he will!” Thor’s voice radiates confidence that Steve doesn’t feel. Maybe he needs more beer. Or more chips! Thor pushes himself up to standing. “Now come back inside with me; I don’t want you sitting out here all by your lonesome.” He beckons toward the apartment. “Besides, Sam is looking for you.”

Steve laughs. “Where have I heard that one before?”

Pulling at Steve’s arm until he stands, Thor chuckles. “Touché , but this time it’s true. Now come on. Clint has an anti-hangover recipe we can try.”

“Did he make it up himself?” Steve asks as Thor pulls open the door.

“He said it was highly researched.”

“Oh boy.”

\--

Bucky does not make another appearance at the party, so when Steve and Sam eventually trudge their way back up the stairs to go home to their own apartments, Steve thinks about stopping and knocking on his door. Sam already knows everything, of course, and tries to steer him away. 

“Not yet, Steve,” he tells him resolutely. “Tomorrow, remember?”

Steve gazes longingly at the door to 3C. “Yeah, tomorrow morning.”

Sam laughs softly. “Now don’t get him up at the crack of dawn, you hear me, lover boy?”

Steve scoffs. “Like I would do that.”

\--

Six AM. Steve’s dying to go down and see Bucky, and afraid of it at the same time. He slept last night hard as a rock, thanks to his drunken state, and no nightmares that he can remember. Even better, he’s only got a little bit of a hangover. Whatever was in that shit Clint made him drink worked fairly well. Note to self: next time, stop earlier when Thor says they _may_ have gone overboard on the grain alcohol. 

He resists the urge to walk down to Bucky’s door, but he does look out his balcony to see if he and Zeus are outside. Nada. Out of a lack of anything else to do, he goes back to bed for a while and falls asleep again, waking when it’s almost time for basketball. 

“Shit!” he yells when he looks at his alarm clock. He jumps up out of bed and throws on some clothes, then races into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Shaving is out again. His hair is sticking up all over, but oh well, none of the guys will care. They’ll probably be impressed he made it out of bed at all. 

He’s just grabbing a banana to snort down when there is a knock on his door. Sam. Crap, he really wanted to go talk to Bucky. Will he be outside already on the court? He runs to the door, grabs his keys and pulls it open. 

Sam takes in his appearance, eyes lingering on his disheveled hair, and smiles. “You just roll out of bed, princess?”

Giving him a look that says, _don’t ask,_ Steve pulls his door shut. “I didn’t even get a chance to talk to Bucky yet!” 

They knock on his door, but there’s no answer. 

“Maybe he’s outside,” Sam notes, so they walk downstairs and head out to the courtyard. Even from a distance though, Steve can see that Bucky is not there. Peter and Thor are warming up, waiting for them, while Clint is lying on his back on the concrete court, doing a pretty good impersonation of a corpse. 

As soon as they draw near enough to be heard, Steve looks at Thor and calls out, “Bucky?”

Clint winces and puts his hands to his ears. “Not so fucking _loud_ , Rogers!”

Steve stares. “Didn’t that shit you made last night work for you?”

Clint just groans. Steve decides to ignore him and his hangover for now and looks at Thor, who shakes his head and pulls his phone out of his pocket, jiggling it in the air. “He texted me a while ago, said he’s been barfing all night long, really sick, could hardly sit up.”

Steve stares. “He’s sick? Did you go up and check on him?” 

Thor shrugs and drops his phone on the grass next to his water bottle. “No, I didn’t go check on him. He’s a grown man, for crying out loud.”

“What?” Steve is surprised at his indifference. “But he didn’t answer his door when we just knocked! What if there’s something really wrong, like he got really dehydrated from the booze?”

“Maybe he was just hugging the porcelain throne?” Clint suggests.

“Or he could be passed out on the floor!” Steve shouts. Clint holds his head and makes a face. 

Peter pipes up then. “Why don’t you go back up and knock again, Steve, in case he was in the john?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll go back up.” He looks at Sam for reassurance.

“Go! Hurry!” Sam tells him, motioning with his hand toward the building. “And Thor can try texting him again.”

“Yeah, good,” Steve responds, then runs back inside and knocks, loudly and insistently. When there is no answer, he tries the doorknob. Locked. He puts his mouth to the door. “Bucky? Can you hear me? Just wanna make sure you’re okay!”

He waits, counting in his head a full minute, panic rising. No answer. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and back. Now what should he do? What if Bucky really needs help? He can’t just leave. And he doesn’t particularly want to kick in the door. He doesn’t actually know how to kick in a door, but imagines it involves some skill he doesn’t possess. He turns and runs back outside to ask his friends what they should do. None of them look like they have moved. 

“Thor, did you get any answer to your text?” he asks breathlessly, coming to a stop a few feet from the tall man.

Shaking his head negatively, Thor frowns. “No, none. No answer at his door?”

“No!” Steve looks around at them all. “What should we do?”

Clint deigns to sit up, rubbing his temples. He looks up at Steve and announces, “He told me sometimes he forgets to lock his balcony door. Could try that way.” 

Steve stares at him for a second before remembering how he got up onto Sam’s balcony. “Yeah, that’s a great idea, Clint! Can I borrow your chair?”

Clint holds his finger up to his mouth in the quiet sign. “Sure!” he whispers. “Just _quietly_ , okay?” He gets to his feet, following Steve back toward the apartment building. 

They carry one of his patio chairs over underneath Bucky’s balcony. Steve climbs up and stands on it, reaching over his head for the edges of the wood planks that serve as the floor of the balcony. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Clint directs him. “Now put your toes in between the bricks and hike yourself up.”

Fitting his toes in there is not as easy as Clint made it sound, but he does get one wedged in enough to be able to push off of. Mostly he uses his upper body strength to pull himself up with, climbing the wrought iron railings with his hands until he’s high enough to get a knee up on the wood planks. 

“Atta boy!” Clint calls up. “I’ll take the chair back; you won’t need it to get back down.”

Steve has managed to get all the way up, standing on the outside of the rails and swinging one leg over at a time. “Okay,” he stage whispers down to Clint, and goes to check the sliding glass door. He pulls at it and it moves. Unlocked! He walks back to the edge and gives him the OK sign. “Door’s open!” he says in another whisper.

Clint nods, looking up at him, and picks up the chair to take back. “Alright, go make sure he’s okay. And stop _yelling_!”

Turning back, Steve pulls the door open the rest of the way and walks in, then slides the door shut again. Zeus appears immediately at his side, inquisitive eyes on him and the tip of his tail quivering. 

“Hey boy! Where’s Bucky?” Steve asks him. It’s deadly quiet inside. “Bucky?” he calls out tentatively and waits, unmoving, fearing the worst. What if Bucky lost consciousness? He knows that can happen if you get too dehydrated. 

Suddenly Bucky appears from the hallway that leads to his bedroom. He’s dressed in jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, and has bare feet. His hair looks damp, like he just got out of the shower, and his face is full of shock. 

“Steve?” he says in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

Steve gestures outside. “Thor told me how sick you were, and when you didn’t answer your door, I got worried, and…” he stops talking. Bucky doesn’t look sick. Bucky looks fine.

Bucky himself is staring at Steve like he grew another eye. “I’m not sick.”

“Why didn’t you come down for basketball? Or answer your door?” The confusion starts to lift, and Steve suspects they’ve been had. And maybe the con man had accomplices.

“I was in the shower. I told Thor I didn’t sleep last night and I wanted to be alone…and…” Bucky pauses. “How did you get in here?” His eyes shift to the sliding door behind Steve.

“Uh…yeah…I came in through the balcony.” Steve points, feeling pretty silly. 

Bucky looks at him silently for a moment. “You broke in here because you were worried about me?”

Steve shuffles his feet. “Uh…yeah. You left your door unlocked out here.”

Tipping his head to one side, Bucky regards him silently again, then decides, “Thor lied to get you in here.”

Steve shifts his weight again, glances down at Zeus and then settles his eyes on Bucky. “Yeah. Why didn’t you sleep last night?”

Bucky shakes his head and suddenly looks nervous, casting his eyes around the room. “I…uh…you know, was thinking about stuff, couldn’t turn off my brain.”

Steve takes a step toward him. “About what stuff?”

Bucky instinctively takes a step away and Steve can see he’s shutting down, closing himself off.

“Oh no you don’t,” he breathes, and takes several steps forward, closing the gap between them. “Don’t you shut me out,” he pleads. “Talk to me.” He’s within a few feet now, hovering just outside of touching range. 

Bucky’s eyes are full of fear as he stares at Steve, lips parted just slightly, breaths coming fast. He doesn’t respond, so Steve takes another step in.

“Do you remember what I told you last night?” he questions him, voice low.

There is a slight nod. “Do you? Do you remember what you said?”

Steve nods definitively. “Every word.” 

The scared look on Bucky’s face just gets more pronounced. “And did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it!” Steve hisses, prowling forward again. His voice gets a little shaky, but he asks the question anyway. “Why does that scare you?”

Bucky lets out a half-laugh, half-sob. “Why does it scare me?” he repeats, almost hysterically. “Steve, you know what happened to me before. You know why it scares me.”

A sudden rush of bravery, of determination overtakes Steve. “No I don’t,” he insists. “Because I’m not _him_. I’ll never be him.” He clenches his fists at his sides. “Bucky…I love you.” His voice is definitely shaky now, but resolute. “I want you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. I’ve never wanted that with anyone else, but I want it with you.” He searches Bucky’s eyes. “I can’t think of anyone else but you. Tell me you love me. Tell me you want me.”

Bucky is breathing so fast, he might be hyperventilating. He doesn’t speak for an eternity, just stares at Steve with those fucking eyes of his, but Steve waits. He waits, and finally Bucky heaves a great sob and speaks. 

“Of course I love you. You’re the only one I want. The only one who matters. I love you and it scared me to death, how much I love you.”

Steve’s heart races. _He loves me._ He loves me. Bucky _does_ love me. His body tingles from head to toe. He can’t get any words out yet so he just stares, as hard as Bucky was staring at him, and Bucky goes on. 

“I panicked. That’s why I called it off,” he admits, shaking his head. “But I thought I was the only one being hurt, that you didn’t want any commitments. And then last night…when you said all those things, and I thought there was a real chance for us…”

Steve starts to surge forward again, but Bucky’s next words halt his steps.

“I was even more petrified. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you, God I _wanted_ it, but I was scared, either that you didn’t mean it, or that I couldn’t do it.” 

Steve swallows hard. “Couldn’t do what?”

Bucky is so silent and so still that Steve starts to panic himself. “Please say something,” he begs.

Bucky licks his lips. “Couldn’t let go,” he whispers. “Couldn’t let go of what happened before. Couldn’t let myself trust you.”

Steve drinks in the sight of his love as though he may never get another chance. “Please, Bucky. I need you to tell me you can let go of the past.” His eyes feel wet and he can feel his body shaking where he stands. If Bucky can’t make that jump…but he doesn’t even want to think about what that means. And hearing Bucky say he can’t, knowing it’s not a nightmare this time, might break him. He’s holding his breath. He drops his eyes to the floor, not sure he can even look him in the face in case the answer is a bad one, when Bucky finally finds his voice.

“Steve.” He waits till Steve meets his gaze, eyes focused on his, intense and unblinking as he takes the last step in that Steve didn’t. “I didn’t sleep all night, thinking about you. How much I need you. And I know now, I can let go of everything else. For you I can. Because I want you, only you.” 

His hands slip up to Steve’s shoulders and he presses a soft, tender kiss to Steve’s lips. “I love you. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.” His hands are on his face, in his hair, while he kisses his cheeks, his jaw, his mouth. “Please believe me, I never meant to hurt you.”

Steve takes him in his arms, with Bucky’s hands settling on his chest, and can feel his body trembling, just as much as his own is. He kisses him back, just slow, chaste brushes of their lips together, light as a feather but loaded with emotion. Kiss after kiss after kiss. The weight that was pushing on his chest is gone, replaced with exultation so bright and strong it’s like a million blinding spotlights, chasing away any darkness that dares intrude. 

He kisses Bucky’s cheeks, his closed eyelids, his forehead, then his mouth once more. His thumbs caress Bucky’s cheekbones. “I love you,” he tells him again, and it’s the best feeling in the world to say it this time and know for sure Bucky feels the same way. “I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

Bucky’s arms circle around his waist. “I’m yours. For as long as you want me.” 

His smile is as dazzling as diamonds, full of light. He leans in to kiss Steve again, and this time there’s nothing slow or gentle about it. They both deepen the kiss immediately, seeking out the other’s tongue, sinking into each other. Steve drags his hands through Bucky’s wet hair, pulling him closer. Bucky reaches up Steve’s back, holding him tight at his shoulder blades as they continue kissing deeply.

It’s everything. There’s no adjective that sufficiently describes how Steve feels. He’s on cloud nine and never coming down. When Bucky pulls away from him, Steve recognizes the same joy in his eyes. 

“Come on,” Bucky murmurs, and pulls Steve’s hand in the direction of his bedroom. 

“No, wait,” Steve replies, and tugs him in the other direction, back toward the balcony. He pulls open the sliding door and steps outside, still holding his hand. Zeus, who had been sitting at their feet, watching them patiently, now jumps up friskily and hops on three legs outside as well. 

They guys are all playing ball, having a two on two competition without them, but Thor stops moving when he catches sight of them. He holds up his hand wide in the air and yells out, “So?”

Steve doesn’t get a word in before Bucky grabs him from behind, turns his chin and kisses him, with a huge smile on his face. Everyone has stopped what they were doing, and they hear a big cheer from all four men, even hung-over Clint.

Peter cups his hands to his mouth and yells, “You two coming down to play?”

Steve looks at Bucky, then back down at the courtyard; he puts his hands to his mouth and shouts back, “Hell no! We’re staying up here to play.”

Laughing, Bucky grabs his arm and shouts down as well, “Don’t check on us.” 

He pulls Steve around and they and Zeus go back inside, ignoring the catcalls and lone wolf whistle from Peter. From there it’s a short trip into the bedroom. For two of them, anyway. Zeus hops his way over to the couch and jumps up onto it using his three good legs, like a pro. Steve and Bucky leave him behind; as soon as they get near the bed, Bucky motions downward with his head. 

“Take those off,” he commands, referring to Steve’s shoes and socks. 

He kicks them off while Bucky climbs to the center of the bed and kneels, waiting for him. Steve joins him, walking on his knees to get to his lover and pull him into a playful embrace. And even though they’ve kissed plenty of times before, even though their clothes are still on, it’s like fireworks going off inside the room, sparking lights and booms in his ears and a feeling in his chest that he identifies now as the unending _love_ he feels for the man with him. 

Bucky’s arms are around him, grabbing at his ass, while Steve has one hand on his neck and one on his upper back. Their lips are sealed tightly together, and Steve whimpers softly when Bucky squeezes the cheeks of his butt in his strong grip, pulling Steve up off his knees and flush to his body. They both laugh against each other’s mouths and Bucky allows him to slide back down to the bed. 

“Come closer, sexy,” Bucky purrs. “I want you.” He sneaks both his hands inside Steve’s gym shorts and caresses the bare skin of his ass, sending a jolt of pleasure right down Steve’s spine to lodge in his groin.

He tightens his grip around Bucky. “You can have me.”

“Every day?”

Steve beams. “Every day.”

Bucky’s smile changes to something hungrier. His eyebrows lift questioningly. “Starting right now?” 

Steve shakes his head. “Nope.”

Head tilted to one side, Bucky looks at him in disbelief, the unspoken question on his lips.

Steve laughs again, drops his arms lightning fast and reverses Bucky’s maneuver, grabbing him by the ass and dumping him to the bed on his back. “Because I want you first,” he confides, getting on top of him and kissing him slowly, covering his body with his and rubbing their chests together. 

“Mmmmm,” Bucky mumbles, already deep into the kiss. He rucks up Steve’s shirt and pulls it up towards his head. They split apart so the shirt can come off, and Steve sits back, working on the button and zipper of Bucky’s jeans while Bucky rips off his own shirt and tosses it down to the floor next to Steve’s. Once Steve gets his fly undone, Bucky lifts his hips and lets the blond pull his clothes down his body and off. 

Already growing hard himself, Steve takes in the sight of Bucky’s rising shaft, thick and proud, before smothering him a second time and kissing him. Bucky’s hands once more find their way inside his gym shorts, pushing them down off his hips as much as he can; he reaches a hand between them to search for the rigid length of Steve’s cock.

“Fuck me with your gorgeous dick, baby. I’ve missed you so much,” he murmurs around Steve’s mouth, as Steve presses more kisses to his. 

Steve has his hands braced on the mattress on either side of Bucky’s shoulders. He picks his head up, breathing deeply, enjoying the scent of Bucky all around him and Bucky’s hand as it moves over him, stroking him slowly. He groans, letting Bucky have his way for a moment, then teases, “All in good time.”

He ducks down, sliding down the bed until he can get his head down between Bucky’s legs. Slowly he licks one long line up the inside of his thigh, then rubs his beard along that same track, nuzzling the sensitive skin. God, Bucky’s thighs are a marvel to behold. Kissing them is sinfully good. And having them wrapped around him is even better.

“Owwwww!” Bucky complains and grabs at Steve’s head as he makes another pass, scratching his beard into one leg roughly, loving the way it feels against his skin.

Steve laughs and picks his head up in the air, smiling up at the brunet above him.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” Bucky threatens, but his eyes are smiling, too. 

“We’ll just see about that,” Steve returns smugly, and tips his face down, taking Bucky’s thick shaft into his mouth. It’s hard and heavy, and feels fantastic as it slides past his wet lips and into his mouth. He goes as deeply as he can, filling himself before tightening his lips and sucking hard, then pulling back off just to the tip.

Bucky groans and relaxes his hands, no longer gripping Steve’s head, just resting his fingers there instead. Steve makes several passes the same way, taking Bucky in deep, sucking hard for the deep pressure he now knows Bucky loves, letting his cock slide against his lips and tongue. He’s got his arms underneath Bucky’s spread legs, curling up around them so he can hold Bucky’s muscled thighs in his hands as he blows him. 

His head bobs rhythmically and Bucky makes beautiful sighing cries in time with Steve’s movements. That changes when Steve goes extra deep, nudging the tip of his cock right up against his throat and staying there, oscillating only minutely but still sucking strongly at him. That gets Bucky worked up into a lather; his sighs give way to plaintive moans and curses. 

“Oh fuck!” he whines. “Fuck, don’t stop,” he encourages him. 

Steve doesn’t actually have any intention of stopping, because Bucky’s cock in his mouth is pretty fucking terrific. He almost chokes himself, swallowing so much of that hard shaft, but it’s oh so good, that fullness in his mouth, the wetness at the tip tasting salty in his throat. He’s got Bucky writhing under him in pleasure when another idea inserts itself into his head.

He pulls off, wrapping his hand around the base of Bucky’s cock and stroking him so the loss of his mouth won’t be too great, but Bucky groans anyway.

“Steve, please…”

“Do you remember what you did to me the first time we were together?” He suckles the head of his cock, swirling his tongue around it while he waits for a response. He hears a wheezing gasp, then Bucky’s voice.

“I did a lot of things to you that night.”

Steve lifts his eyes only, looking up at him through long, dark lashes, while still toying with the head of his cock and jerking him off slowly. Bucky is wearing a naughty smile that makes Steve’s erection twitch violently down below. 

Steve pulls off all the way to enlighten him. “I mean with your tongue. Down here.”

One hand travels back under Bucky’s thigh and finds the tight skin at his entrance, circling one finger around it like a predator circles its prey.

Bucky moans wantonly. “I remember your tight little hole, making me crazy. God, how I wanted inside you.” He arches his back, pushing down against Steve’s finger with another heavy moan.

“Wanna do it to you,” Steve informs him, his voice a deep rumble. His fingertip rubs over Bucky’s hole lightly, teasingly. He can feel a tremble move through Bucky’s legs.

“I… _Jesus, baby,_ …I won’t stop you.” 

Bucky’s head falls back on the pillow and he sighs again when the pressure from Steve’s finger gets stronger. Steve withdraws only to push Bucky’s legs up toward him; Bucky grabs onto his own knees, hiking his legs up to give Steve access. The blond runs his hands flat up over the backs of his lover’s thighs, appreciating the thick bands of muscle there, before spreading him and moving in.

His face, beard and all, gets buried in between those two cheeks; he flicks his tongue out, searching for that soft skin. The tip of his tongue makes contact and he drags it up and down, licking over the puckered skin ruthlessly. He can’t believe how hard it makes him, using his tongue to make Bucky keen and shake that way. Bucky clutches at his knees while Steve holds onto his ass and goes to town, slicking him up, circling his tongue around his hole over and over, soft tongue licking, beard rasping over his hot skin.

Steve knows he’s giving Bucky some wicked beard burn on the cheeks of his ass, and that there will likely be some significant repercussions of that later on, but doesn’t care. He presses his face and tongue in anyway, lapping at him until Bucky is close to howling in ecstasy. He really wants to make him come just by using his mouth, so he finds the center of that ring of muscle and pushes in, trying to fuck him with the wet tip of his tongue.

“Oh, oh, oh…Christ, Steve!” Bucky bleats helplessly. “Shit, yes!”

He groans when Steve pumps his tongue in and out, twisting it a little, enough to make his partner above him come unglued. As he hums in satisfaction, mouth flush to Bucky’s skin, he feels Bucky go right over the edge. A giant shudder racks his body and after a loud gasp, Bucky comes hard, spilling gloriously all over himself.

Steve keeps going, licking and kissing at him until his body relaxes again. Bucky wheezes and lets go of his knees when Steve backs up and releases him, letting his legs flop down to the bed weakly. Steve backs down and off the bed, shooting into the bathroom for a hand towel he runs under warm water. He hands it to Bucky to use and then dives into the bedside drawer. No lube. There is a soft laugh from the general direction of the bed. 

“Looking for this?” Bucky says smartly, holding up the bottle and tossing it down on the mattress for Steve.

“Bet your ass I am,” is Steve’s pert reply. He snatches the bottle up and snaps it open. 

Bucky sighs deeply, turning his head in Steve’s direction. “My ass is now ruined for anyone else’s tongue, you know that, right?”

“I fucking hope so,” Steve says fervently.

Bucky chuckles as Steve slicks up his fingers, then groans once when Steve moves in, breaches him and stretches him. He works as quickly as he can, mostly because he’s so aroused, he can hardly stand to wait. He wants inside his lover ten minutes ago. Sharing his impatience, Bucky grabs his wrist after a minute and stills his hand.

“Now, Steve. Get inside me _now_.”

Steve withdraws his fingers, but doesn’t push in. “Not yet.” He lies down next to Bucky, on his back. “Ride me,” he growls. “I want you to fucking _ride me_.”

Bucky rolls immediately, getting on top of Steve and giving him a hard kiss. Apparently he likes that idea as much as Steve does. He sits up, straddling Steve on his knees. Steve watches him, taking in the dark eyes and skin reddened with passion. His cock pulses in anticipation, a generous amount of pre-cum flowing from the tip. Bucky gets comfortable and reaches behind, finding Steve’s monster sized erection and lifting himself up above it.

In one swift motion he sinks down, impaling himself on his long shaft. His head is back, exposing the long line of his neck and throat. Steve’s eyes are half-closed and he’s close to coming already, Bucky is squeezing around him so much. He watches Bucky’s Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallows a deep lungful of air. 

“Fuck!” Bucky grinds out through gritted teeth. 

He gyrates his hips slowly, getting himself acclimated to the fullness now inside him. Steve is about to fucking pass out, it’s so good having Bucky on top of him like this. Bucky’s hands dig into Steve’s thighs as he leans back, angling further down till his cheeks rest on Steve’s pelvis.

“Oh my God, Buck!” 

“You’re so _hard_ , baby!” 

Steve is actually pretty well aware of this fact, but it’s still a rush to hear Bucky say it, like he’s just performed some feat of magic or something. He grabs Bucky’s thighs just to have something to cling to as Bucky starts rolling his hips, snapping them forward and back. His passage is so hot and tight, it’s all Steve can do not to beg for more. Deeper. Harder. Just _more_. Fucking hell, he wants more. 

Bucky gives it to him. He’s thrusting and rocking himself faster, harder, slamming himself down on top of Steve’s cock. Steve matches his rhythm, trying to lift his hips to penetrate him even further, even though there’s no way he _can_ go any deeper. Bucky has taken all of him, finds the angle that hits his sweet spot, and cries out sharply, head back, damp hair swinging freely. 

“Come for me,” he pants, looking down at Steve sensuously through a curtain of long eyelashes, face flushed, eyes shining.

He’s spell-binding. And he’s _Steve’s_. Forever, and he’s never letting go of him. That thought sends Steve right into such ecstasy, it stuns him with its strength. A powerful orgasm tears through him; bolts of electricity reverberate from deep inside and grow in intensity as they spread. He can feel it in every atom of his being when he comes, filling Bucky in wave after wave, his whole body alive. Bucky keeps rolling his hips right through it all, moaning with his lover, thrusting hard and keeping himself buried to the hilt. 

They’re both sweaty and exhausted when it’s over and Steve finally stops quaking. Bucky leans forward to kiss him, keeping Steve embedded inside him as long as he can. When that ends he collapses down on top of him, resting all his body weight on top of his partner, and props his chin on his fist, on Steve’s chest. 

“I could lie here all day with you. You don’t have to go anywhere, do you?”

Steve rubs both of Bucky’s shoulders. “I’ve got no plans.”

Bucky grins evilly. “ _No_ plans?”

Laughing, Steve hugs Bucky to him. “Well, maybe _some_ plans. All of them involving you and your bed.”

“Well, you’ve got bedhead already, anyway, so that’s perfect. Did you oversleep this morning?” Bucky teases. 

Steve grins lopsidedly and strokes Bucky’s hair back away from his face. “I woke up early, then went back to bed and woke up late.”

There is a gleam in Bucky’s eyes. “So you’re saying you haven’t had a shower yet?”

“Nope.”

Bucky’s grin widens and his eyes start to dilate again. “Then you may need to alter some of those plans.”


	16. Conventions, Camping, and Other Awesomeness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness and fluff like you wouldn't believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end, because it can't be. Stay tuned if you want to get into Bucky's head, and thank you all for being such lovely readers. It really puts the spring in my step. Well, that and the smut. Oh, the smut. :-)

Chapter Sixteen

THREE MONTHS LATER

Steve is unloading the dishwasher in his kitchen when he hears the lock turn in the front door. Bucky, dark hair flying around his face, bustles in with several shopping bags under his arms. He’s so laden down that the bags hit the door frame on both sides as he comes through, making Steve laugh at his clumsy entrance. 

“Hey babe, did you leave anything for the other shoppers?”

Throwing down his bags onto the couch and tearing off his jacket, Bucky looks up in confusion. 

“What?” he says, head tipped as he sweeps into the kitchen and wraps Steve up in a tight hug. 

“Nevermind,” Steve laughs again, sliding his hands up over his solidly built chest and around his neck. “How was your day?”

Bucky leans in and kisses him, slowly but with enough heat for Steve to feel it in his toes. His tongue licks at Steve’s bottom lip, requesting entry, and Steve lets his mouth fall open, tilting his head to one side and groaning from the back of his throat. Bucky kisses him thoroughly and hungrily, like he does pretty much every day; it’s an occurrence Steve still can’t believe is part of his life, but is grateful for just the same. He’s really getting into the kiss and is thinking about moving this activity over into the bedroom when Bucky slides his fingers up inside his shirt, over the bare skin of his lower back. 

His icy, cold fingers.

“Fucking hell!” Steve yelps, pulling away from him. 

Bucky laughs, chasing him with his arms to keep him from escaping. 

“Your hands are like ice!” He bats Bucky’s hands away from him. 

“Yeah, it’s December,” Bucky teases merrily. 

Backing away from him, Steve abandons him in order to go and examine the bags on the couch. Bucky lets him go and encourages him from his spot in the middle of the kitchen. 

“Wait until you see the awesomely geek-tastic present I found for Clint! It’s in that blue bag there.” 

He points it out and Steve digs in, intrigued. Nat had talked them all into a Secret Santa gift exchange this year, which Bucky had thrown himself into enthusiastically. They weren’t supposed to tell anyone else whose name they drew out of the hat, but Bucky, in his fervor, had accidentally let it slip to Steve that he got Clint. In turn, Steve had shared his name as well (he got Peter). He picks up the bag; it’s heavy and clinks when the weight within shifts. Inside a large cardboard box is a set of beer bottles, each with a picture etched into the glass side. 

“Oh my God, is that Yoda?” Steve asks, mouthing a _WOW_ at his boyfriend. 

“It’s Yoda!” Bucky replies excitedly. 

“Clint loves Yoda!”

“I know!”

Steve closes up the box and slides it back into the bag. He becomes aware that Bucky is no longer looking at him—instead he is roving through the kitchen, opening up various cabinets and peeking inside them. 

Steve smiles to himself. “Are you looking for something, babe?”

“No,” Bucky responds innocently, continuing his trip around the kitchen. 

He stops at the peninsula, looking stuck; he drums his fingers once on the countertop, then looks at Steve like a lightbulb just went off over his head. He moves slowly into the living room with him, then strides past and into the hallway. Steve follows in no rush, figuring Bucky is heading for the bedroom, but panics when Bucky stops and pulls open the door to the linen closet. He trips forward and tries to push the door shut, slamming his hands flat on it, but only succeeds in pushing the door into Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky dives inside triumphantly.

“AHA!” he yells, and come up with a small, red gift bag with a reindeer on the side.

“That’s poisonous!” Steve shouts ridiculously, making a grab for the bag, but Bucky dances away from him, laughing. 

“Thought you could hide this from me, did you?” he jokes, and Steve gives up, chuckling. 

“How did you know?”

Bucky skips over to the empty couch and sits down, patting the vacant seat next to him. “Maria texted me.”

He opens up the bag and pulls out a golden chunk of peanut brittle, popping it into his mouth and crunching it down happily. Steve takes a seat next to him, watching him enjoy the sweet treat. Bucky’s eyes are closed and he makes an enticing _Mmmmm_ sound. 

“So good!” he declares, then opens his eyes and reaches into the bag for another piece. 

This one he holds up to Steve’s mouth, so he opens up obediently and allows Bucky to feed him, deliberately closing his lips around his two fingers when he places the chunk of brittle in his mouth. There is a sharp exhale of air from Bucky when he slowly pulls his fingers back out, with Steve’s lips sucking at them sensuously. 

“We’re gonna need to go to bed early,” he declares breathily, blue eyes lit up like fire. 

Steve crunches down his piece of candy and moves to kiss Bucky’s jaw with slightly sticky lips, nosing along his cheek and sliding his _warm_ fingers into Bucky’s hair. 

“Your place or mine?” he murmurs.

Though they still both have their apartments and don’t technically live together, they never sleep alone. Not anymore. 

Bucky huffs out another breath and leans into his touch. “Where do I have the best chance of getting laid?”

Smiling into his neck, Steve kisses up one side. “All of the above.”

“Mmmm,” Bucky repeats, pulling Steve’s mouth to his again, “Merry Christmas to me!”

\--

FIVE MONTHS LATER

“We’re late!” Steve announces as he tries to hustle Clint down the stairs faster, but the man is moseying along like they have all day, pulling his windbreaker on over his head in slow motion.

“We’re not late,” he disagrees in a chipper voice.

“We’re late!” Steve insists, pushing open the exit door.

“A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins,” Clint intones, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Nerd.”

Clint laughs. “Relax, Rogers, we are so definitely NOT late,” he assures him as they climb into the Land Rover. 

Ten minutes later, Clint harangues him, “Come on, can’t you drive any faster, old man? We’re gonna be late.” 

Steve looks over and makes a face. “I’m setting Darcy on you if we are. I was supposed to look at those samples, like, yesterday!”

“Well, why didn’t you say we had to stop there before going to meet everyone at the restaurant?”

“I DID say so!”

Clint gives him a shit-eating grin. “Oh.”

They pull into the lot and park in front of the now-familiar shop with the brown roof and white lettered sign. Steve hops out and literally runs to the door, while Clint lags behind, checking something on his phone. 

Darcy sings out to him as he walks in, “You’re late, Steve-O!”

“Ugh! Sorry, Darce,” Steve grunts as he approaches the counter. “Got those samples for me?”

She tosses her long, dark hair and purses her deep, red lips. “Of course I do, silly, because I’m efficient that way. They’re all…” she stops talking when Clint strolls in, still looking down at his phone.

She leans forward, elbows on the counter and chin in her hands, and _squeaks_. “Did you get them?”

Grinning, Clint leans against the tall counter opposite her. “Just confirmed.”

Steve turns in surprise. “Confirmed what?”

Darcy then turns and drops her hands on the counter, just as surprised. “For the convention, of course!” She shivers exaggeratedly. “It’s gonna be so great!”

Steve points at her, then Clint, puzzlement on his face. “Are you going with Clint to one of his dork conventions?”

Darcy opens her mouth and looks at him. “What do you…”

She is cut off by Clint, waving his hand in Steve’s direction. “Don’t bother, Darcy. You’re wasting your breath with this one. He’s not of the faith.”

Darcy sits back from the counter and looks at Clint, then looks at Steve, like she is examining a bug and deciding whether or not to step on it. “Steve.” Her voice is distainful. “I’m disappointed in you.”

Steve can’t help laughing at the stern look on her face. “What? Just because I’m not a sci-fi fan?”

She shakes her head. “You don’t share the love? Do you not even realize how much the Marvel cinematic universe alone is filled with hot men?”

Clint snorts. “I object to the awesomeness of science fiction being reduced to how many good looking male characters there are.”

Darcy pushes her hair back from her face. “I’m trying to find something appealing to him here, Clint.”

Steve waves his hand at her. “Uh, really, I’m fine. You guys go and have a good time.”

Darcy starts off with a, “But…” and is interrupted by Clint, coughing into his fist. “Oh, _alright_ Clint, do you need a glass of water? Chill out!”

Steve’s got his nose wrinkled up and his eyebrows drawn tightly together, looking pretty constipated. “You two are acting very strangely.”

“No we’re not.” Darcy reaches down below her desk and plucks up a large board, laying it flat on the counter.

“Nothing strange here, buddy,” Clint states, unconvincingly in Steve’s view.

Whatever’s up, he’ll have to wait to find out. Darcy pushes the board toward him. “Let’s get you those samples, Steve-O.”

\--

Fifteen minutes later, Clint and Steve straggle into the restaurant, last to arrive. Steve places the blame squarely on Clint, who blames Steve for waffling with his sample decision. 

“I was not being wishy-washy,” Steve whines, as the waitress brings him and Clint their drinks. 

They have a long table at the sports bar not far from Bucky’s shop. Scott and Bucky were seated on one side; Steve took the empty chair next to Bucky, with Clint on his other side. On the opposite side of the table sit Thor, Sam and Peter. There is a wall of giant TV screens behind them with several baseball games playing simultaneously.

Bucky grins at him and bumps his leg under the table. “Did you make up your mind?”

“Yep,” Steve affirms and grabs Bucky’s knee in his hand. “Darcy’s got it all taken care of.”

Thor clears his throat and gives them a pointed stare. “You two, stop playing footsie,” he teases. When everyone quiets, he holds up his glass. “A toast to Peter, for actually passing his flight test and getting his pilot license!”

There is a general chorus of cheers and everyone lifts their glasses into the air. 

“Thanks, guys!” Peter trills, and takes a drink along with everyone else. He sets his glass down and rubs his palms together. “Now, since I don’t actually have my own plane yet and need some amusement, who else has seen the weather forecast for this weekend? It’s supposed to be fantastic! Anyone up for a hiking and camping over-nighter up on the mountain?”

Sam snaps his fingers. “Damn!” he curses loudly. “What a shame I’m on call this weekend!”

He grins at Steve from across the table, and Steve smiles right back, shaking his blond head. There’s no way Sam would voluntarily go camping unless large sums of money were involved; he hates anything involving tents and bugs with a passion. Thor and Clint immediately throw in, as does Scott. That just leaves the two of them; Steve turns to see Bucky already looking at him. 

“You wanna go?” Bucky asks, icy blue eyes fixed on his. 

Steve makes what must be an indecisive face, because Peter rushes to add, “Relax, Rogers, it won’t be the hike-in variety. We can drive up to the campsites with electric hook-up and real bathrooms.”

That helps. Steve likes outdoor activities that don’t involve peeing and/or pooping in bushes. It also helps that Bucky leans in close to his ear and whispers, “And we can zip our two sleeping bags into one big one.”

“We’re in!” Steve announces with zeal. 

“Sweeeeeeeeet!” Peter pumps his fist once. “Leave Saturday morning?” he suggests, looking around the table for head nods. 

The plan is set. On Saturday morning they load up Steve’s car; tents, gear and two coolers later they set off on the hour and change drive up into the mountains. Bucky, who called shotgun before they all even hit the parking lot, is seated next to Steve. Thor and Clint are in the second row of seating, and Scott is in the back with one of the coolers. Peter is in front of them on his motorcycle, leading the way. It’s a crisp morning with sunny skies, and promises of temperatures in the upper sixties. 

Halfway into the drive, Scott is already rummaging through the box of food next to him, looking for a snack. He comes up with a granola bar, then peeks into the cooler. Steve hears his grunt from up in the driver’s seat. 

“Uh, boys…” Scott queries, “There’s only soda in here. Where’s the beer?”

Thor turns in his seat. “The what?”

Scott isn’t buying it. “The BEER. I was led to believe there would be beer.”

Clint rubs his stubbly chin. “I didn’t pack any beer. Did you pack any beer, Thor?”

As Thor shakes his head, Scott warns, “Quit fucking around with me, guys.” His tone is skeptical, like he’s not really falling for it, but might fall for it if they press hard. He’s next in line for most gullible, after trophy-winner Steve.

Bucky laughs and puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder as he angles himself and turns around to look to the back of the car. “Relax, Scott, it’s in the _other_ cooler.”

“Spoil sport,” Clint grumbles as Scott pretends to wipe his brow. 

“Crisis averted,” he jokes, and takes a big bite of his granola bar.

Most of the drive is straightforward up until near the end, and when they start navigating up the side of the mountain on much more winding roads, they get a call from Peter. Steve has his phone docked on the console of his car when it lights up and starts vibrating. 

“Put that on speaker, would you?” Steve asks Bucky, nodding at the phone. 

Bucky obliges him, and a second later they hear Peter’s voice. “Hey Steve, be careful in this section, there are quite a few falling rocks this time of year.”

“Peter… how are you on your phone and riding at the same time?” Steve wonders aloud. He can see both of his hands are on the handlebars of his bike, no cell phone in sight.

Thor pipes up from the rear. “Steve, you’ve never heard of Bluetooth?”

“But how did he dial?” Steve shouts back, looking in his rearview mirror at him. 

“Easy!” Peter replies. “I have my phone rigged to be hands-free.”

“It’s like that episode of Star Trek!” Clint yells. “He’s using the movements of his eyes to control his phone!”

Steve rolls his eyes around in a complete circle. “No one knows what you’re talking about, Clint!”

“Correction!” Clint leans forward and wraps his hands around the back of the passenger seat Bucky is currently sitting in. “I bet there’s one person in this car who knows what I’m talking about.” 

From the very back of the car, Scott shouts out, “Not it!”

He is followed closely by Thor. “Nor I.”

Peter also sounds off. “I’m not actually in the car, but I don’t speak nerd, either.”

“Peter, you’re IT,” Steve teases. “Isn’t that a prerequisite for your job?”

“Hahaha, Rogers,” Peter’s disembodied voice intones. “You’re a web designer. Isn’t it a prerequisite for yours?”

Steve chuckles, and Peter goes on. “Near as I can figure, that only leaves one other person in your vehicle.”

Doing a mental head count, Steve finds that Peter is right, and turns his head to his right. Both Clint and Bucky are smiling at him from that side of the car, only Clint’s smile is devious, while Bucky looks shyly embarrassed. 

“Star Trek Next Gen. A female alien impersonating the devil uses implants in her eyes to control her environment,” Bucky chronicles. 

“Nerrrrrrrrrrrrd.” Peter’s voice is heard drawing out the one word over the speaker.

Steve tries to look at both the road and at Bucky while he’s driving; his mouth might be hanging open just a smidge. Probably looks really sexy, too, judging from the expression he sees on Clint’s face. “But…” he starts, as Clint high fives Bucky. 

“My man Bucky!” he cackles. 

“Buck!” Steve squawks. “I thought you were just a casual sci-fi watcher?”

Bucky’s head shakes guiltily. 

Clint is bouncing in his seat. “He’s hard core, baby!”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot off into space. “Have you been hiding your geek side from me?”

“Not hiding it,” Bucky insists, and laughingly pushes Steve’s face away from him when he turns and ogles him. “Just haven’t really brought it up before now.”

“My boyfriend is a secret nerd,” Steve deadpans. “Next you’ll be telling me you want to start going to conventions with Clint and Darcy.”

Watching the road, Steve is expecting to hear a denial from the man sitting next to him, but instead all he hears is the cushion squeak as Bucky shifts his weight, and some muffled laughter from the back half of the car. 

“What!” Steve exclaims. “You _do_ want to go to the convention!”

Bucky nods, and turns on his puppy dog eyes. The eyes that destroy Steve. And he turns them in Steve’s direction before he speaks. “I’m going….and I want you to come with me.”

“No way!” is Steve’s initial knee-jerk reaction, but then Bucky wears him down instantly with his eyes, so pleading, so sexy. There’s no way he can say no. 

“Pleeeease,” Bucky lays his head on Steve’s shoulder and rubs his arm. His soft hair tickles Steve's neck. “Pretty please?”

“Awwwwwwwww, shit,” Steve groans and looks down, giving Bucky’s forehead a quick kiss. “Of course I’ll go with you.”

“Yessssssss!” Bucky sits back up and his excitement is palpable; Steve grins, happy to be a reason for it. 

Clint pats him on the shoulder. “Good thing. We already bought your ticket.”

Steve glances at him, then at Bucky, and raises his eyebrows.

Bucky leans in close. One hand slides up Steve’s thigh, blocked from view by his body and out of sight from Clint. “I was going to ask you when we were alone, so I could promise you lots of sexual favors.”

Steve swallows hard. “So I’m still getting those favors, though, right?”

The squeeze he receives from Bucky’s hand serves as a pretty good affirmation of that. 

\--

Hours later, the men are returning from their eight mile hike on a wooded trail. There is enough spring foliage budding to provide some shade from the bright sun, and the views of the surrounding mountains are breathtaking no matter how many times you’ve seen them. It’s a warm enough day that they could hike comfortably in short sleeves, but not get too sweaty. Perfect. 

They have already set up their camp, with their tents pitched in a circle around the fire pit. They have some dry wood ready for a fire, which Steve immediately volunteers to start. The smell of a campfire burning is one of the best things in the universe to him, even better than the smell of fresh baked bread or cookies just out of the oven. And the crackle of a fire burning is like music to his ears. Steve’s always been the guy who could sit and stare into a campfire for hours and be completely content, long after everyone else has turned in for the night. The dark embers and occasional sparks that fly up? Yeah. He could watch that all night.

As he piles up sticks for kindling, Bucky comes to sit next to him on his log. “Can I do anything to help you?” 

Steve shakes his head. “No, I’ve got this, but you can keep me company.”

Bucky gives him a warm smile. “I can do that.”

Scott drops down onto another log on the other side. Thor and Peter are prepping dinner—burgers and brats they will cook over the fire, while Clint is fiddling with the zipper on his tent, which apparently went screwy when he climbed out through the tent flap and tried to zip up. Scott looks thoughtfully from Clint over to Steve and Bucky, then pitches his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Maybe now’s a good time to lay down some ground rules, gents. Like the fact that I don’t want to see anyone naked.”

Steve chuckles, but Bucky looks like he’s about to swallow his tongue. 

“What?” he asks, eyes bugging out slightly. “Come on, Scott, you don’t think we would really…”

Scott shakes his head. “No, no, no. I mean,” he gestures to the two of them, “I don’t want to see you naked either, but I was specifically referring to _Clint_.”

Peter calls out from his spot, standing at the hatch of Steve’s car with the food cooler open. “I second that motion. We’ll have no repeats of that fiasco.”

Clint guffaws as he finishes zipping up the tent and strides over to sit down next to Scott. “Fiasco, my ass.”

Scott points. “That’s one of the things I’m worried about, Barton. Your _ass_.”

Steve turns to Bucky. “A few trips back, Scott got up early in the morning and came out of his tent just in time to see Clint motoring across camp buck naked.”

“Wrong,” Clint states loudly. “I had my boots on.” Clint has a pair of shit-kicker boots he always hikes in.

Bucky erupts into giggles. “Clint, why were you walking around in only your boots?”

Clint shrugs. “Dude, I had to pee.”

Steve joins in Bucky’s laughter, which grows louder as Thor also cracks up.

“But why were you _naked_?” Bucky wheezes out.

“I sleep in the buff,” Clint explains, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to sleep in your tent in the nude. “I had to pee, and only had time to put on one thing. If I put on pants and walked around barefoot, I might have suffered a serious foot injury.”

Everyone is laughing at this point, because Clint’s face says he totally believes he is in the right here. He turns to Scott, appearing conciliatory. “Don’t worry though, I’m sharing a tent this time with Thor, so I brought my best Spiderman PJ’s.”

“Thank goodness!” Scott declares, and nods across the fire pit. “You boys bring your superhero jammies, too?”

Steve rolls his eyes as he feeds more sticks into the flame he’s got going. “Obviously.”

Thor walks over, carrying packages of buns and a bag of potato chips. “We don’t want to hear any strange noises coming out of your tent tonight, either.”

Bucky grins. “Define strange.”

Clint snorts. “If I have to keep my clothes on, so do you.”

Thor looks sideways at him. “That statement is wrong on more than one level.”

“Come on, we have a little more self-control than that,” Steve assures them, and Bucky nods. 

“Never fear, you won’t hear a peep.”

\--

“So, we’re fooling around tonight, right?” Bucky questions Steve. They are alone in their tent, both on their hands and knees unzipping their sleeping bags.

Steve has his gaze locked onto Bucky’s delicious ass in front of him, faded jeans conforming perfectly to his shape. “Oh, we’re totally fooling around tonight.” He grins and matches up the zippers on their bags. Once they combine them into one large sleeper, they can cram themselves into it and snuggle together all night. 

Bucky turns and brings his face in close to Steve’s to whisper, “We just have to figure out a way to keep your big mouth shut.”

Steve laughs quietly. “Why am I the one who has to keep his big mouth shut?”

Bucky leans in and kisses his mouth, then his jaw, then the spot just under his ear that makes him crazy, and speaks directly into his ear. “Because I won’t be making any noise at all with my mouth all over your dick.”

Steve takes a ragged breath; his cock twitches hard inside his pants as he shares a smoldering gaze with his boyfriend. Camping with Bucky is so fucking _awesome_.

\--

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Close your eyes.”

Steve grumps, “I’m not closing my eyes,” but gives in when Bucky uses his _I’m being serious_ face and repeats, “Close your fucking eyes, Stevie!”

“Okay! Okay!” Steve laughs and closes his eyes. 

They are standing on the porch of the latest house Bucky is building. It’s another Craftsman style, with a long covered porch with a wooden rail all the way around and wide, bricked steps leading up to the oak front door. Once Bucky confirms that Steve’s eyes are, in fact, closed, he opens the door and takes Steve by the arm, leading him inside. 

Steve is marched in; a gentle hand on his bicep stops him. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Okay…now.”

Steve cracks one eye and looks in his boyfriend’s direction. Bucky is watching him, smiling. He laughs when he sees Steve eyeball him. “Open up, baby.”

Opening his eyes all the way, Steve takes in the sight before him. The fireplace on the far side of the room is all grey toned stacked slate, floor to ceiling, with a wood mantel at the center. It’s a piece of art. 

And it’s for _them_. He gapes at it, struck dumb for a moment before he finds his voice.

“Buck…it’s…it’s _beautiful_. It looks even better than I thought it would!” 

He turns and gives him a giant hug, squeezing him tightly within the circle of his arms. It’s the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for him. And how sexy is it that his sexy boyfriend is building a house just for him? Every time Steve comes here, he gets a hard on. 

“You really like it?” Bucky asks, hugging him back and wrapping one hand around the back of Steve’s head. “I made it for you…it’s not gas powered, it burns wood.”

Gasping into his neck, Steve pulls back to look at him. “Really? You did that for me?”

Bucky nods, and Steve’s getting a little choked up. Building a house together has been challenging and exhilarating at the same time. Bucky asked for his opinion on _everything_ , even things Steve didn’t think he would ever care about and wanted to leave to Bucky and his expertise, like where the outlets should go on the walls, and what type of toilet he liked, and what color the shingles should be.

Now here they are, standing inside their dream. Once they had decided to do it, things moved pretty fast. Their lot is in a development just on the other side of the park they frequent, within a few minutes’ walk of their apartment building. More importantly, it’s for _them_. Moving in together is a huge step, one that Steve expected Bucky wouldn’t be ready for anytime soon, given what happened to him before. 

But Bucky _was_ able to put everything behind him and leave it there for good, and Steve’s never been happier in his life. Spending the ensuing months together after their confessions of love has brought them even closer together, and as they got to learn more and more about each other, Steve fell even more and more in love. But when Bucky hinted to him he wanted to have a real fenced yard for Zeus, he never presumed that meant he wanted Steve with him.

Instead, he worried that Bucky would be farther away, instead of a hop, skip and a jump down the hall, and said as much when Bucky had asked what his sad face was for. Then he was pulled into Bucky’s arms and kissed to within an inch of his life.

“You dummy,” Bucky murmured between kisses. “I don’t want a house just for me.” His hands cradled Steve’s face. “I want a house for _us_. I want us to be together, all the time.”

Steve had gotten a little choked up then, just like he is now. And it’s not just the fireplace. He scans the rest of the room and beyond, into the kitchen. There are no appliances yet, or countertops, but the cabinets are already installed, and so is the wood floor. It’s all so _perfect_ , he can’t believe it’s theirs. 

“It’s all perfect,” he breathes, and Bucky takes his hand.

“Come on, I want to show you the master bath.”

“Did the shower come in?” Steve gurgles excitedly as they walk down the hall from the great room to the master suite. 

Bucky’s smile is wide, and contagious. “It did.”

They have a large walk-in shower, which both of them felt was a top priority. Plenty of room for them to get in there together. Steve is standing and admiring the huge glass wall that encloses the shower and its giant rainfall shower head, when Bucky approaches him from behind, sliding his arms around Steve’s narrow waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

He turns his head to kiss Bucky’s cheek. “Just think of all the shower sex we’re going to have in there.” 

Bucky kisses his cheek back. “What about all the fireplace sex?” He slides one hand suggestively down just inside the waistband of Steve’s shorts.

“Would be better if there was a fireplace in front of the bed,” Steve responds; he’s joking at first but then, struck by what an incredible idea that is, he taps at Bucky’s arms over his stomach erratically. 

“That’s not in the plans,” Bucky warns, throwing cold water on his idea. 

Steve flips himself around in Bucky’s arms and throws his arms up his shoulders. “But you could _put_ it in the plans!” He smiles when Bucky groans and looks at the ceiling. “Come on, Thor says owners _always_ add stuff at the last minute.”

“That doesn’t mean I want _you_ to do it!” Bucky argues good-naturedly, and Steve knows he’s already won. 

“It doesn’t even have to be wood-burning,” he purrs, kissing along the side of Bucky’s face and gripping his biceps. “How hard would it be to run a gas line?”

Bucky sighs. “Not hard, since I already have a gas line leading right up to the other fireplace, just in case we ever want to convert.”

Steve nuzzles his ear and bites gently at the lobe. “So there you go. Super easy for a genius like you.” 

He is about to tempt Bucky more by licking up the outer shell of his ear when Bucky takes his chin and pulls Steve’s mouth to his for a crushing kiss. Their tongues lick at each other, sliding deep inside their mouths, and Bucky’s hands latch onto his ass to pull him in closer.

God, he loves the way Bucky manhandles him. It’s a show of power that’s not about dominance; it’s about showing Steve how much he’s wanted and desired. And that, he’ll never tire of. He feels his way up Bucky’s arms and shoulders, wrapping his arms around his neck and then sliding his hands down over his hard pecs. Bucky moans softly into his mouth, and it dials Steve’s desire up about a hundred notches. They kiss long and deep, until their collective arousal level threatens to make that shower sex an imminent possibility, water or no water. 

“Let’s go, babe,” Steve pulls back and breathes, “Before I need to bend you over the counter.”

Bucky snickers. “Or before you start adding on other shit to the plans.”

\--

ONE MONTH LATER

“Do you know what today is?” Steve asks as Bucky rolls off of him, crashing down onto their bed in a boneless heap. They’ve just finished an early morning session of lovemaking, both naked and sweaty. Bucky pounded into him like he wanted to drill him right into next week, and Steve fucking _loved_ it. 

“It’s the one year anniversary of the day we met,” Bucky says softly, threading his fingers between Steve’s. He brings Steve’s hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it, eyes sparkling in the pale morning light. His dark hair is pillowed around his face, skin smooth and sun-kissed. 

“That’s right,” Steve tells him, a huge smile covering his face. “Did you ever think we’d be here in a year?” 

_Here_ is their home. Completely done, completely moved into. Their king-sized bed sits in front of a white-washed brick gas fireplace. It’s still summer now, so Steve has so far resisted the urge to turn it on, but he can’t wait till the weather turns colder. The dog bed they got for Zeus sits next to the fireplace, but most of the time it is unused. Zeus looks at them from down on his corner of the bed, where he sits in his nest of blankets. 

“Not in a million years,” Bucky admits, scooting closer so they can spoon. “I love you.”

Steve turns and spoons into him. “Love you, too, babe.”

Later that morning they are walking back from Saturday basketball, with Zeus on his leash and in tow. Even with a fenced yard, they still go for regular walks with him through the park, or over to the apartment building to visit their friends. There is a nice, wide paved sidewalk that skirts the park and makes it easy for them. Bucky has Zeus’s leash in hand when his cell phone starts to buzz in his pocket.

He pulls it out, looks at the message displayed, and grins at Steve. “He’s there.”

\--

Two hours later, showered and cleaned up, they stand in front of the nondescript building. Two story, blue aluminum siding. Not much to look at from the outside, but it’s not the outside that’s important.

“Feels so much different this time,” Bucky says to him, and Steve squeezes his hand. 

“Ready?” he asks. Steve’s ready. It’s a big decision, but he’s not having any second thoughts.

“More than ready,” Bucky answers, and pulls at his hand. 

They enter the building and are met by a young, dark-haired woman. Knowing Bucky already, she greets him warmly, then turns to Steve. “It’s good to meet you,” she says with a friendly voice, green eyes fixed on him. “This way, please.”

“We can’t wait!” The words burst out of Bucky’s mouth excitedly. 

As soon as they enter the back room, twenty pairs of eyes are on them, staring. Steve scans the room quickly and finds the pair they’re looking for, even before the woman leads the way. Chocolate eyes, inquisitive and bright, and a face that is quivering with trepidation. Steve’s heart takes a flying leap. 

Then the barking starts. 

They pass by rows of cages and Steve understands absolutely how Bucky felt coming here the first time. So many dogs, and he wants to take all of them home with him. But there’s one in particular they came to see. A breed that doesn’t end up at the shelter all that often, so when one was expected to arrive from another rescue site, the adoption worker here called Bucky immediately. 

They come to a stop in front of one cage, where a red-haired miniature male dachshund sits, tail wagging, eyes lit up like firecrackers. Steve sticks his fingers through the cage bars and the small dog sniffs them and gives him a lick, then stands up and jumps up at the bars, resting his front paws on them. He barks once, loud and clear, and the woman with them laughs. 

“I think he likes you,” she says, unlocking the cage and opening the door. “He was abandoned, left at another shelter when the owner died and the family didn’t want him.”

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” Bucky croons, reaching out to pet him as soon as the woman has picked him up and cradles him in her arms.  
Small whines emanate from the tiny dog and he lifts his head under Bucky’s hand, eager for attention. Bucky looks at Steve, beaming.  
“What do you think?”

Steve smiles back. “I think he’s ours.”


End file.
